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A VERY SMART LITTLE FRENCH TRENCH 



The Big Show 

My Six Months With The 
American Expeditionary Forces 



By 

Elsie Janis 




Cosmopolitan Book Corporation 



New York 



MCMXIX 



Copyright. 1919, by ."5 ^ 

COSMOPOLITAN BOOK CORPORATION 



A// rights reserved^ including that of translation 
into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian 






PRINTED IN U B.A 

SEP 30 1919 

(g)CU585159 



jiebication 

To the A.E.F., with all my love, 

I dedicate this hooky 
And hope if they ever read it. 

They will smile with me wnd look 
Back on the ^^ good ti/mes" over there, 

And think only of the day 
When after their work was done I came 

And then we would start to play. 
Oh; it was fun, wasn't it, '^ fellahs "? 

I'll say it was ''some swell guerre'' 
For I lost my heart to each one of you 

In the Mg show '' Over There." 

Elsie Janis. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I 1918 — We Leave fok Fkance . . 1 



II BONSOIR, GOTHAS! .... 

III Birth of Big Bertha . 

IV TouL. The American Froxt . 

V Neuilly and Our Boys 

VI We Join the A. E. F. and Meet the 
Boss OF Same .... 

VII We Give Provins and the Bearded 

One ze Beeg ' ' Ha ! Ha ! ' ' 

VIII Forbidden Fronts 

IX The British Front 

X Following the Hurrying Huns 

XI The a. E. F. in England . 

XII Home Again! 



13 
25 
56 
79 

97 

117 
132 
154 
176 
193 
211 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 



A Very Smart Little French Trench . . Frontispiece 
A Crowd of Regular Guys at Johns Hopkins Hospital— 

Bazoilles 20 

There Was Lots of Home Talent in " The Big Show " . 52 
"Poor Minne Letourrr! Look at Her Now and Before 

the Yanks Came!" ....... 100 

At Verdun 132 

I Gave the Show on a Couple of Tables in Front of 

Headquarters 190 

A Jazz Band of Chocolate Hue 206 

On Shipboard 222 



INTRODUCTION 

IN April, 1914, I made my first appearance in 
England at the Palace Theater, London. The 
British public opened its arms to me, and I 
crept in with a joyous heart. I made many dear 
friends and was thoroughly happy. 

In August the great blow fell upon the world. 
Suddenly England was at war. The theaters still 
went on, people stood the shock wonderfully, and 
in a few days one hundred thousand of England's 
best had been spirited away and were landed in 
France — while we were still wondering when they 
would go ! About ten per cent of my friends went 
with them, some never to return, but to make his- 
tory and cover themselves with glory that can never 
be forgotten. 

It was not surprising that, arriving home in 
America in October, 1914, with " Tipperary " ring- 
ing in my ears and visions of hundreds of brave 
men singing as they marched away, I should have 
been a bit disappointed in the neutral attitude of 
most of my friends. Having seen the Americans, as 
I have, in France since then, I don't believe they 
know the meaning of the word "neutral.-' They 
were not that — they were loyal. 

ix 



X INTRODUCTION 

Their President said be neutral, and they were — 
loyal to him. 

After three months in America we sailed again 
for England — January 30, 1915 — on the Lusitania, 
the time when the submarine lay in wait for her, 
and that wonderful man Captain Paddy Dow set 
us out in the middle of a hurricane until dawn and 
then came in flying the American flag. Exit subs, 
in consternation and some speed. 

I played again at the Palace, and now began 
my first real taste of war. The wounded were com- 
ing home in thousands; the camps were full; and 
I spent every spare moment I had, and some I did 
not have, singing in hospitals and camps. It was 
then I learned what a little amusing story or a 
song can mean to a man before he goes into a fight 
or after he has " got his.'' 

In July, 1915, my dear friend and fellow-player 
Basil Hallam heard the call of his country more 
than the cheers and applause of the public, and he 
enlisted or rather insisted, as he had been turned 
down as unfit several times. 

I did not want to continue without him, so 
again we went to America. In the meantime the 
Lusitania had been sunk and America was growing 
restive in spots. 

When the next summer came around I heard the 
call of the War again, and instead of settling down 
at our home. Mother and I dashed over to England 



INTRODUCTION xi 

again. Dodging submarines was now becoming a 
habit. We spent six weeks in London, during 
which time I did not play at all, but sang every 
day and all day to the poor Tommies who had al- 
ready been at it nearly two years. 

The day that we were sailing back home to take 
up my winter contracts in New York, I received 
word that my dear friend Basil Hallam had '^ gone 
west," as the British call the glory of dying for 
their country. 

I was never really happy again until April 7, 
1916, when America stepped in to take her share 
of the burden and the glory of the world. From 
that time on I had but one idea, and that was to 
get to France and do for our boys what I had done 
for the others — for I thought, if the Tommies liked 
me in their own land and surrounded by their own 
families, what would our boys feel, three thousand 
miles awav from home? 

So I started in at home, recruiting, playing 
benefits, and doing a very " war-mad " act in vaude- 
ville, singing patriotic songs, etcetera, and telling 
everyone I was going to France. No one quite 
believed it, and to me it seemed almost too good 
to be true, but it was ! And when I got there I met 
in every corner fellows who said, " I saw you out 
in 'Frisco " — or some other place ; " when you said 
you were coming over here first, I never thought 
you would do it, but by gosh! you did." And 



xii INTRODUCTION 

though all the men would place wreaths on my 
brow and the folks at home write me how wonder- 
ful they think it was my giving up work and money 
to go over, I want to say that I deserve no credit, 
really. I could not help it. War had me and still 
has me, and my life really began when I set my 
foot or rather both my feet, and Mother's feet, in 
France, for be it understood that when I say " I '' 
it means ^^ loe,'' for she was with me, and a much 
better soldier than I was, as all the men I had the 
honor of singing to will testify. 

I did not mean to ramble on so in this chapter, 
but I only w anted to explain why I am a " war 
nut " before I started to write about my trip. I 
wanted people to know w^hy we went. I know they 
will all understand why we stayed six months, and 
forgot such things as real theaters existed. 

We were in the 

BIG SHOW! 



THE BIG SHOW 

CHAPTER I 
1918 — We Leave for France 

DIFFERENT people have different ideas of 
what happens to us hereafter if we don't 
behave. I have my own theory on the 
subject. 

The guy who wobbles along the ^' straight and 
narrow " w^hile in our midst is in the hereafter 
sentenced to one long effort to get a passport in 
war-time, it being understood that the Kaiser will 
be there teaching the devil Kultur that we could 
not quite get next to on this earth. 

They were very nice about our passports, really ; 
but I saw more of New York than I ever did before, 
and I am convinced that they hide the passport 
bureaus 'way down in the ankles of the City, hoping 
that the passport seekers will get so tired that they 
will miss the boat. We just made ours — the Es- 
pagne. As we had crossed five times during the 
War, our friends all wore a sort of " What — 
again?!" expression. They gave parties for us, 

1 



2 THE BIG SHOW 

wliicli w ere rather more like '^ wakes/' and I know 
that while we were dancing, singing and having a 
wonderful time generally on that ship, at least 
three dear souls were praying for our safety — bless 
them! It worked. We had a splendid trip. We 
had all that money I had been collecting from Mr. 
Keith's circuit to spend on the trip — so we started 
right in and took the suite de luxe. A more 
distingue crowd you could not imagine on ship- 
board, and we had that splendid assurance of dying 
in good company. 

Nothing happened, outside of a rather comic life- 
boat drill, after which I decided to take the free- 
dom of the seas rather than get in a boat with about 
thirty of the feminine gender, in the midst of whom 
I should have had to get up and give my seat to a 
lady, or at least stroke the crew ! 

One man appeared on deck with one of those 
Avonderful life-savins: suits with evervthino- but hot 
and cold running water in them. It was marvelous. 
They advertise that it will hold up eight people, 
but somehow I would prefer not to sell reserved 
seats for my life preserver in case the ones who 
were beino- saved i^ot excited and forgot about the 
one who had paid the sixty dollars — until they 
saw bubbles coming up from where he had been 
before they pushed him under in their enthusiasm 
over beino- saved. 

We had a wonderful concert, and as it was a 



WE LEAVE FOR FRANCE 3 

French ship several of the artistes sang in French. 
I sang in English and had quite a success with 
the French people on board. Perhaps they did not 
understand me. I sang '' Over There'' and they all 
joined in the gestures. 

The night before we landed, the Captain came 
down to dinner for the lirst time, having stayed 
on the bridge every night looking for trouble. He 
made a speech, and asked a charming French singer 
to sing " La ]Nrarseillaise." She did so, beautifully. 
Then everyone turned on me, and asked for " Over 
There." I believe that the French people think it 
is our National Anthem. I was glad they did not ask 
for the " Star-Spangled Banner,-' for though that 
wonderful song is splendid when played by a band 
or sung by one good voice, nothing is more pathetic 
than tlie average crowd of Americans singing it. It 
usually sounds something like this : 

Oh! say, can you see, by the ja ba jum da — 
La, da, da, — la, da, da, etc., 

until the finish, when they all join in asking with 
fervor if the Star-Spangled Banner still waves — 
knowing very well she is waving better every day. 

However, we all sang " Over There," and we all 
meant it. I doubt if anyone was quite as enthusi- 
astic the next morning on landing, when we really 
found out the meaning of the word " rationed." 

Arriving at Bordeaux (such a pretty name! sug- 



4 THE BIG SHOW 

gesting grapes, red wine, etc., and looking very 
much like Jersey City only more so) we were a 
little disappointed. I, for one, expected American 
troops to be there and decide whether we should 
land or not. The first soldiers we saw, however, 
were German prisoners, very pleased to see us or 
anything else but the front line trenches. Two 
Y.M.C.A. men were charming to us — and I then 
found out that where there are Young Christians 
there are young Henry Fords. We leapt into one 
with joy, and went to the hotel, where we had break- 
fast with — No meat, no bread except of dusky hue, 
no butter, no sugar, no jam, no nothing — and very 
little of that — but ive were in France! and I could 
have existed a week on " joy." 

On the way up to Paris we saw our first American 
troops, who were busy putting in a few miles of 
railroad in a couple of hours — or at least when you 
see the miles and miles of American rails in France 
you decide that must be about their speed. 

Paris, City of Night ! 

We arrived in Paris at eight-thirty. I remember 
thinking London in 1916 was dark, but it was 
Coney Island on Sunday compared to Paris ; and to 
add to the gayety of our arrival, it was raining. I 
suggested a taxi would be nice, to the four porters 
who were in charge of some " light "(?) luggage, 
and thev all attacked me at once. But the French 
sounded so good to me that I laughed and asked 



WE LEAVE FOR FRANCE 5 

what they would suggest. One said there was no 
choice, we must walk to the Crillon ! Just then a 
fellow-passenger produced the oldest living cab, 
horse and driver — combined ages about one hun- 
dred and ninety. It was decided that we would 
walk, and Josephine, our maid, would risk her life 
and go in the ancient cab. So we put a barrage of 
bags around her and sent her on. We started to 
walk. As we were feeling our way across the Place 
de la Concorde we hear a terrific row, and instinc- 
tively we felt that Josephine and the luggage had 
missed the street. We were right. A taxi had driven 
into the entourage, knocked the horse down — and 
we arrived on the scene just in time to stop the 
taxi driver from going on his way. Such a mess! 
The horse was so old he could not get up, and the 
driver was so old he could not get down. Our 
fellow-passenger pulled the cab, assisted by our 
faithful chauffeur. I led the horse. Mother scolded 
the taxi driver on one side and sympathized with 
the old cabby on the other. Josephine could do 
nothing, as she was completely hidden and for- 
gotten beneath her barrage of bags inside the cab. 
This merry little party made its way to the Crillon 
Hotel. We paid the ancient one enough money to 
buy a new cab, a horse, and insure them ! 

The porters of the hotel looked at me a little 
askance as I led my poor old friend the horse 
up to the front door ; but as the price of Americans 



6 THE BIG SHOW 

was going up everj minute in France, I think they 
would have even tried to find a bed for the horse. 

The Ci'illon we found rather changed since the 
War, but it was wonderful to see clerks, elevator 
boys, waiters, etc., with medals hanging all over 
them — some with arms, eyes or even legs missing — 
but a smile of welcome that the French know so 
well how to " put over," as we say. 

Paris at last! 

No food after eight-thirty — no lights to speak of 
— no hot water, but Paris! and there is only one, 
n*est-ce pas? 

Paris the Glorious! 

The next day was a lovely one, and Paris looked 
her best. I say I could not see any suggestion of 
sadness anywhere; but then I am not a judge, for 
I have the faculty of not seeing sadness, and it's 
a good thing, as my job was to be merry and bright. 

When I left home we had no arrangement with 
the Red Cross or Y.M.C.A. ; we came ostensibly to 
fulfill contracts in Paris and London. But the 
Y.M.C.A. was right on the job that very next day 
after our arrival. They had a map of France with 
dots all over it, showing where the Americans were 
in France — and where their circuit would take me 
if I would go. At first I was not too keen on being 
with the Y.M.C.A. It sounded rather like it might 
cramp my speed — and I asked them quite frankly 



PARIS THE GLORIOUS 7 

if my friends could come to the shows whether they 
were Young Christians or not I They explained 
that they had only one idea, that was to make the 
boys happy. As we had the same idea, we agreed 
to start at once. That very afternoon they sent a 
pianist up, and we rehearsed. I must say for a 
Christian Association they have some speed. It 
was arranged I would start on tour one week later, 
and in the meantime would practice on the soldiera 
in and around Paris. The following day we had to 
dash about getting permission to remain in Paris — 
a very trying tour of offices — explaining to at least 
five French officials, who really did not care at all, 
who your father and mother were, where you were 
born — and why ! After that another tour for bread 
tickets. We dragged ourselves home thoroughly 
agreeing with Sherman, and found that it was a 
meatless day!! 

After getting very chummy with a piece of fish, I 
put on my little pleated blue skirt which I wore all 
over France; all the time we were there I never 
wore a real evening gown but three times! — and 
at that I had a cold most of the time. I ran 
through my songs, thought up a few stories and 
started out to try myself on the boys for the first 
time. It was at the Pavilion — a hotel which they 
had taken over for our men. 

Of course from the work I had done in camps 
and hospitals in England and at home, I knew 



8 THE BIG SHOW 

pretty well what the fellows liked — but I never 
realized what it would mean to them to see a girl 
from home that they knew, more or less. They 
cheered so long and so loud when I appeared that 
I nearly burst into tears, but finally burst into song 
instead — which is nearly as sad. However, to them 
I was Melba and Pavlova. I sang " When Yankee 
Doodle Learns to Parlez-Vous Frangais," which was 
quite unknown at the time, for my first song. I 
told some stories — sang " Cleopatra " — more stories 
— then " The Ragtime Strutters' Ball," and finished 
up with " Over There," in which they all joined. 

Of course the real joy to me was that they liked 
just me and did not ask me to imitate someone 
else. I was so proud of that. I was on about 
thirty-five minutes that night, and when I finally 
tore myself away (I did not want to leave at all!) 
went home, sat down and cried from sheer joy! 
Mother cried, too; in fact, we enjoyed ourselves a 
lot. 

When my French managers came next day to 
talk business and find out when I would play, we 
informed them that we could do nothing for at 
least a month, but that I would play at the end of 
that time. And we really believed it when we said 
it. Little did we know the spell of the A.E.F. 

This first appearance was on Saturday, and for 
one week we went every night to places around 
Paris where our boys were. One night to a tractor 



PARIS THE GLORIOUS 9 

school — next to some anti-aircraft boys — then out 
to some poor engineers who were only an hour from 
Paris, but not allowed in the city. There were only 
about two hundred of them, but if they were as 
wild as they sounded, they were quite right to keep 
them out of a tame little town like Paris. 

They had a marvelous cook from the South who 
gave me a raisin pie. I don't know how he knew 
that raisin pie had always been the blot on my 
moral escutcheon, but anyway I fell, and sang three 
extra songs! 

The next night after that, I gave two shows in 
Paris. One at the Rue St. Anne Y.M.C.A., and 
the other at the Avenue Montaigne Club. These 
were both very nice, but I must admit I am a 
" roughneck " — for whenever there was any sug- 
gestion of a social side to these things I was not 
so keen. I liked the places where we had 
to go through mud, climb things, etc., to get 
there. 

Another night we went to the famous old Fort 
Destinn. It did seem strange to see Americans in- 
stalled there — and with them American comforts 
such as electric lights, hot water, etc. The French 
Commandant was still there — though rather in the 
position of a guest it seemed to me. I gave the 
show in a sort of a long tunnel, underground, very 
damp and cold, but once the boys got in and lit up, 
it was almost cozy. By this time my show was 



10 THE BIG SHOW 

pretty well in shape, and lasted from thirty-five 
to forty-five minutes — sometimes more. 

We stayed in Paris ten days. About eight of 
them were spent in trying to explain to the French 
Government what right we had to leave. After 
asking for permission to remain, they could not see 
where I got on or off in the War. I was not an 
^^ in firmer e '' — I did not deal out chocolate and ter- 
rible smelling smokes in a canteen — I did not even 
drive an ambulance — and yet I wanted to go to the 
Front. Pourquoif To amuse the soldiers. Mon 
Dieu! was not the War amusement enough? 

I was a well-known actress — ah I well, that they 
began to understand, and draw their most French 
conclusions! But sapristi! no! she has a Mother 
with her, who is always with her! Quel blague! 
poor girl, we will do her a favor and get her a 
little freedom. 

Mile. Janis may go, but the French Military do 
Hot wish any more women than necessary in the 
danger zone. Whereupon Miss Janis threatened to 
turn all of France into a danger zone if they tried 
to cut into a combination that experts have tried to 
wreck. 

Well, that took another three days to sink into 
about ten heads. Nothing is done with one head 
in military circles in France. They even shoot 
their traitors in " job lots." 

Well, of course, we waited — and I am not trying 



PARIS THE GLORIOUS 11 

to give the impression that it was a hardship. 
Paris was full of Americans. We had a lovely 
apartment at the Crillon, where we kept open 
house every afternoon, and decided it was a " good 
War.'^ 



WHERE ARE YOU, GOD?* 

Where are you, God, 

In whom I have believed? 
Are you in Heaven? 

Have I been deceived? 
I can't believe you sit up there 

And look down on us all, 
Seeing the horrors of this earth, 
Seeing the brave men fall. 
I'm praying to you. 

Are you there? 
Can you hear me call? 
Where are you, God? 

Where are you, God, 

In whose hands this great world 

Is like a tiny ball, 
That can be turned and twirled? 
I can't believe that you have seen 

The things that they have done. 
With poison gas and crucifixions 

Battles have been won, 
And yet upon this earth of yours 
There still exists the Hun. 
Where are you, God ? 



* Written after the sinking of the Lusitania. 



12 THE BIG SHOW 

Where are you, God, 

In whom I put mj trust? 
You must be there, 

And you are great and just; 
Your mighty sea they've turned into a grave, 
A little baby slumbers on each wave, 
And on the lips of hundreds 

One word — Save! 
Where are you, God? 

Forgive me, God, 

If I have doubted you. 
For in my heart 

I know what you will do. 
Quite soon now you w^ill 

Send us our release, 
Quite soon in your own way 

You'll tell us — Cease I — 
And with one mighty stroke, 

You will send Peace, 
For You are there! 



CHAPTER II 

BONSOIR, GOTHAS! 

PxlRIS had not been raided for quite some 
time. People had almost forgotten to show 
the new arrivals the spot in the Place de 
la Concorde where an aviator fell in the last raid. 
It was old stuff. The Germans had reformed. 

Pense-tu! They were only waiting for us. In 
the old Zeppelin days in England we never had the 
luck to see one. Thev used to come over and we 
would read about them next day and hope for 
better luck next time. So we really knew no more 
about air raids than they know in Berlin. 

However, one can learn a lot about them in a 
very short time. As I think, Berlin may agree one 
day soon! 

It was the night before we were supposed to leave 
Paris. I say that, because no one ever really leaves 
Paris just when they planned to do so. We went to 
dinner with some Anglo-French friends at their 
house. We were about twelve, a very gay party, 
mixing our French and English and American into 
a cocktail of good-fellowship. 

I think it was in the midst of the salade that the 

13 



14 THE BIG SHOW 

butler came and stood between the hostess and the 
gentleman on her left, and addressing them both, 
said : " The Gothas have arrived, my lady. . . . Will 
you have port, sir? '' 

The word Gotha at that time meant nothing in 
my life, but suddenly to my wide-open ears came 
the most diabolical wail, sounding like a Hippo- 
drome Chorus of lost souls. Our hostess smiled 
sweetly and said, ^' Ah oui! voila la sirene! '^ and 
that was all. 

I looked at Mother, whose black eyes looked like 
shoe buttons in milk — and alive with expectancy, 
I let my gaze wander around the table, rather 
hoping to see one worried look. But no ! they were 
all toying with an unsuspecting peach Melba. So 
I took a long breath and leapt onto mine as if it 
had been a German. 

Remarks about other raids and how many were 
killed floated on cigarette smoke, and were swal- 
lowed with a bit of peach Melba. Suddenly Mother 
came to. She realized that Mousme, our ten-year- 
old " Peke," Josephine and a very dear girl friend 
were at the hotel. I mention Mousme first, be- 
cause with all due respect to everyone that is her 
position in our family. Mother thought she must 
telephone, but she was wrong, because telephoning 
is not being done in the best families during an air 
raid ; but we were assured that the guests in hotels 
were requested gently but firmly to descend into 



BONSOIR, GOTHAS! 15 

the cave — so that was that! By this time I had 
thoroughly bayoneted my peach in its most vital 
spots, and I could resist no longer, so assuming my 
most blase tone of voice, I said : " Do you suppose 
they are over us now? " 

^^ Mais non! ^' they all cried. " It's always at least 
twenty minutes before they arrive after the first 
^ alertc/ One must wait for the "^ tir dii barrage/ ^' 

Ah! Now I understood the calmness of everv- 
one. I thought — Boom I boom ! boom ! went the 
guns in the suburbs of Paris. 

''^ Voild! ■" cried one tiny French miss, " they are 
coming ! " 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! This time much nearer. 

Coffee was served. I think I put salt in mine in- 
stead of sugar. 

Boom ! This time under my chair, it seemed. I 
found myself wanting to be near Mother so we 
might share the same bomb as we have always 
shared our joys and sorrows. 

Someone went to the window and opened it. The 
noise w^as deafening. ^' They are here," said the 
window-opener. ^^ Listen, you can hear the 
'planes." 

I swallowed my salted coffee and ran to the win- 
dow. Sure enough — " Brrr, brrr, brrr," sang the 
engines. I forgot everything in my anxiety to see. 

*^ Pit pat, pit pat," something was falling like 
rain. 



16 THE BIG SHOW 

" Shrapnel," said the hostess. 

Boom ! brrr — gush ! 

^' Une homhe/' said a lady with no back in her 
dress. I found myself wondering if she was not 
cold. 

Une homhe! and perhaps twenty souls hurled 
into eternity without a warning. I came back to 
earth with a thud. Mother's hand was in mine and 
the guests had gone into the drawing-room, already 
bored by the monotony of the guns. I squeezed 
Mother's hand and said, " Well, dear, if our num- 
bers are up, we will exit together." 

From that night I have never felt the slightest 
tremor even under fire at the Front. I have always 
felt that so many nice people have left this earth 
lately that one would have as many if not more 
friends on the other side. We went back into the 
drawing-room, where to the tune of the " Livery 
Stable Blues " we danced through the rest of the 
raid, which lasted an hour and a quarter. 

I am sure the Angel Gabriel will have a hard 

time to blow as glorious a call as that little French 

bugler blew when the " All clear ! " signal is given. 

Ta ta ta ta ta tum; ta ta — ta ta ta tum — ta ta 

toot — Too — too — too I 

It does not look like much on paper, but it 
sounds heavenly ! I am not sure he is not Gabriel 
rehearsing . . . for the great day. 

When we got back to the hotel, fully expecting to 



THE Y.M.C.A. CIRCUIT 17 

have to go down in the ^' cave " and drag Mousme, 
Josephine and our friend out from under a case of 
wine, we found them standing in front of the hotel 
looking like Cook's tourists. They were ahead of 
us. They had seen the Germans. Curses! 

The Y.M.C.A. Circuit 

The Huns came the next two nights. In the 
hotels they put all lights out when the ^^ alerte '' 
is given. So the good old-fashioned candle has 
come into its own again. The second one we were 
at the theater — in the midst of a scene a man 
walked on the stage and said, ^' Messieurs et 
MesdameSy les Gothas sont arrives — la representa- 
tion continuera ^' — and walked off. 

There was a buzz all over the theater. I trans- 
lated it to our American friends for whom it was 
too fast, the man being rather in a hurry it seemed. 

All our party thought the raid would be more 
amusing than the show, so we went out into the 
inky darkness, tried to lure a taxi into taking us 
to the Crillon. He wanted forty francs, which we 
thought a little high even for an air raid, so we 
wandered home, arm in arm — looking for things in 
the sky, trying to make ourselves believe that a 
shooting star was a falling Boche airplane, and 
when we reached the hotel the ^^herloqne^^ (All 
clear!) was given. It was a fausse alerte. So 
we missed both shows. 



18 THE BIG SHOW 

Two days later we started on our first trip, in 
a Packard twin-six limousine (very hard war!). 
Mother, the pianist, a very nice-looking and un- 
Christian-like Y.M.C.A. man, the chauffeur — not 
ours, because he not being a Christian was not 
allowed to drive a Christian Packard. 

We left our maid and our girl friend (who was 
by this time canteening busily) in our apartment. 
There is no reason why I should make a mystery 
out of our girl friend by not telling her name, only 
I decided I would make it a rule not to mention 
names ; for if I tried to mention all the people who 
were nice to us in France, my story would never 
be finished in time to be read by this generation. 
And then I was told by our Big Boss General when 
I joined the A.E.F. that soldiers do not mention 
names of towns, divisions; in fact silence in the 
army is more than golden — it is platinum. 

In writing about this first trip, I am going to 
quote m}^ diary and save all those superfluous " the 
next day " and " the day after that." 

This is what I wrote at the time. 

Tuesday. 
Hotel Jeanne cVArc, Mailly. 
Got up at ten. The Huns killed and injured 
seventy -nine in the raid last night. Swine! 

W^e left Paris after lunch, lovely day — it seemed 
quite like old times to be motoring again in France. 



THE Y.M.C.A. CIRCUIT 19 

The roads are not bad. The country is cultivated to 
the last inch — and all done by the women. 

We arrived here at five-thirty. Were met by the 
Colonel, came to this comic little hotel. Jeanne 
d'Arc has a lot to answer for if she is to an- 
swer for this " joint." Mailly is the largest French 
artillery camp and school. There are thousands 
of Yanks here. We dined with the officers, where 
they told me that the Cinema Hall would not half 
hold the crowd; so I gave one show there in the 
mess hall for the officers, then went on and gave 
another in the Cinema Hall for the men. A great 
bunch ! fifty minutes' show ! 

Went to General C.'s house afterwards — he is 
very young for a General. He formally made me a 
brigadier-general by pinning one of his silver stars 
on me. There were two French generals there and 
a flock of colonels, majors, etc. 

When we got back to Jennie Ark's hotel we stum- 
bled upstairs by the light of a match and found 
that the very nice Y.M.C.A. girls had put hot water 
bottles in our otherwise Labradorian beds. They 
were nice — and what credit those girls deserve! 
We think we are doing something staying here one 
night — they stay here all the time — in a plethora of 
the finest mud I've ever seen. 



20 THE BIG SHOW 

Wednesday, 
Hotel de France, Chaiimont, 
American G.H.Q. 

Got up at nine. The Y. girls got our breakfast. 
Geo. Washington coffee. 

Went to the camp hospital, where they have a 
gang with the Mumps ! Having had them I went in 
and gave a show. They were so grateful, as they 
thought they would not see me. Went into the offi- 
cers' mess — said good-by, and left Mailly at about 
two. Arrived Chaumont at five. Had a bite of din- 
ner in our room. Nearly froze. Asked for a fire 
and nearly started another war. Went to Y. hut, 
gave an hour's show to about two thousand. Some- 
one yelled for me to imitate Will Eogers. I said 
I couldn't because I had no rope — and some cow- 
boy produced one. I was " stung " but made it go, 
and danced in it. Riot! 

Rather tired tonight — not such a bad hotel, but 
Captain Kidd was an amateur compared to these 
little hotelkeepers. Now is their chance, and they 
are taking it. ^^ Vive les Americains! '^ they say, 
and charge you forty francs for a room — just a 
room, that's all. But why shouldn't they? After 
all, they have paid in a way that money can never 
make up for. 

Thursday. Chaumont. 
Got up at ten — lovely day, but I never expect to 



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THE Y.M.C.A. CIRCUIT 21 

be warm again, except around the heart. That part 
of me is on fire all the time, seeing our wonderful 
boys. At two o'clock we went out to the big local 
hospital — wonderfully run by an all-American staff. 
I gave one show in the Red Cross hut. Got a note 
from the boys who were quarantined, saying: 
" Dear Miss Janis, we can't get out, but won't you 
come and sing one song under our windows? 
Signed, Scarlet Fever — Mumps — Meningitis and 
other Bugs.'' 

I went, of course, and told them stories and sang 
— then went through the wards singing and kidding 
with them. Two hundred and forty American 
wounded came in yesterday. 

At five-thirty we went down to Y. hut — met a lot 
of the French, English and American officers — then 
home — had a bite to eat while dressing. 

At seven-thirty gave another show at the big hut, 
two thousand more. Went on to officers' club, and 
gave them a show — then came home, nearly dead. 
The big General is away with Secretary B. He 
left nice messages for me — sorry not to have seen 
him — they say he is some man! 

Friday. 
An Old Chateau. Bourmont. 
Got up at ten. Packed up — talk about one- 
night stands ! Left Chaumont after lunch — stopped 
at Bazoilles. Another big base hospital run by 



22 THE BIG SHOW 

Johns Hopkins Unit. Met officers and nurses. 
They were so nice and have had no amusement for 
seven months — promised to come back tomorrow 
and give a show. Came on to this town — very 
quaint place on the side of a hill. On arrival saw 
crowds of U.S. troops entrain going to the Front. 
There is no hotel here, so we are in a funny old 
house and waiting on ourselves. There is appar- 
ently no one else here, it's quite spooky. Dined 
in a queer little room with five officers, then went to 
" hut " — a very rough one. Outside the door was 
a sign: 

tonight at seven-thirty 
America's greatest actress 
elsie janis 

Poor boys! It's a shame to bring them three thou- 
sand miles from home and then swindle them like 
that. About fifteen hundred men were due to en- 
train at eight, but General B. allowed them to come 
to the show. They had full equipment, tin hats and 
all. After the show they marched to the train 
cheering and singing my version of " Over There," 
called " Over Here." The General thanked me and 
said I had put " pep " enough into them to make 
them walk right into Germany singing. 

Went to officers' club for a few minutes and then 
back to our merry little dungeon — tivo candles only. 



THE Y.M.C.A. CIRCUIT 23 

One joy in this liglitless life is that I can't even see 
my face — so I don't know if I am looking badly. 

Mother has a terrible cold and I am getting one. 
I wonder why France goes in for damp sheets? 

Saturday. 
Hotel de VEiiropCy Langres. 

Took a long walk this morning up the hill to the 
ruins of old Duke de Bourmont's Castle. Some- 
body sure did ruin it. Left Bourmont at twelve, 
went back to Bazoilles as promised. Had lunch 
with the nurses. The hospital is full. Gave one 
show in the hut and then went into eight wards 
singing and telling stories. One boy that they said 
could not live asked me to sing the " Homesick- 
ness Blues.'' I did, and he joined in the chorus. 
He promised me to get well. 

Came on to Langres. One of the most picturesque 
old towns in France, with ramparts and a w^all 
around it. Also on a hill. They must have been 
very " snoopy " in the old days, from this town — 
no neighboring village could slip anything over. 
We dined in our rooms, then w^ent to the hut. An 
enormous double one. Cave an hour's show. They 
were so enthusiastic I hated to leave, but what 
voice I never had is walking out on me, I'm afraid. 

Met General S. — very nice. My goodness, but 
the w^oods are full of Generals! My cold is very 
bad, just my luck! 



24 THE BIG SHOW 

Sunday y 
Hotel de la Clothe, Dijon. 
Woke up and found I could scarcely speak. Ter- 
rible pains in head and nose. Left Langres at noon 
and came on here. Wonderful hotel — first running 
water we've seen. I felt so badly sent for a doctor 
from the American hospital here. He came and 
said I could not possibly go out, so we had to can- 
cel the concert for tonight. I am broken-hearted. 
The doctor says I have inflammation of the frontal 
sinus — sounds almost unladylike. To bed at once 
and -flocks of inhalations. How I hate missing a 
show ! What bad luck ! Hot water, and the doctor 
wouldn't let me take a bath ! Sunday, too ! 



CHAPTER III 

Birth of Big Bertha 

THAT trip was much too short and sweet. We 
stayed in Dijon for three days — and then the 
doctor said I could not possibly go on and 
be exposed to the dangers of singing in hospitals, 
camps, etc. So we went back to Paris, where I had 
two doctors and was confined to our apartment for 
one week. The third morning after we returned, 
we were awakened by the sirens, which were fol- 
lowed by large booms at regular intervals of twenty 
minutes. " Zeppelins I " everyone said. Zepps fly- 
ing at a great heigh t ! 

Poor unsuspecting aviators were sent up almost 
to the gates of heaven and came down with ears and 
nose bleeding from the high altitude only to re- 
port — Nothing was up there except a few idle 
angels, and surely they had no bombs concealed 
under their wings. 

These " booms " continued all day. People went 
about their work — children played in the Tuileries 
— poor souls left their homes never to return again. 
Personally I realized how Mr. Damocles must have 
felt with the sword hanging over his head. My 

25 



26 THE BIG SHOW 

own head caused me great pain, if I even turned 
it. So I lay there with my eyes on the clock and 
my hands on said head and counted the minutes 
between explosions, and piled up hate in ^^ gobs " 
against the Boche. 

At about four the ^^ booms " ceased. The her- 
loque blew gayly. The evening papers announced 
that our brave airmen had driven off the foe, and 
that the Germans had started an offensive on an 
enormous front, and had thrown forty divisions 
against the British. 

"Could the British hold them?!" everyone 
asked. 

That evening a friend called on the 'phone to 
tell us that it was a long-range gun that had been 
ruining our day. 

I said, " Don't kid me. I am ill." But he in- 
sisted. 

A little later the sirene sighed once more and 
there was an air raid. So altogether Big Bertha 
made quite a stunning debut. 

The late night paper announced : " Germans ad- 
vancing. British fighting one man against four " — 
and another headline : " Paris bombarded from a 
distance of seventy miles." 

"Impossible!" said Paris, quite forgetting for 
the moment that no " outrage " is impossible for 
the Huns! 

Bertha's debut from the Hun point of view wa£ 



BIRTH OF BIG BERTHA 27 

not such a success, as she only killed one or two, 
but of course she was only a beginner. 

The next morning at seven the Huns were on the 
job, Bertha coughing with great regularity. I woke 
with a jump that landed me nearly into Mother's 
room, but then went back to sleep. Bertha kept it 
up all morning. I heard her vaguely and dreamed 
I was a sniper, camouflaged as a tree-stump pick- 
ing off Huns by the dozen. 

At lunchtime Bertlia stopped for two hours. The 
Germans must eat! 

The real Parisians behaved wonderfully. The 
floating population floated out of Paris as quickly 
as trains, motors, trucks and even weary cab-horses 
could take them. Some said eight hundred thou- 
sand people left in a week, but they were not 
missed, because everyone who had a real job that 
meant anything to the War stuck to it like a poor 
relation. And believe me, it was trying. The gun 
all day and air raids every night. Verily, the Hun 
was making a big and far-reaching offensive. 

The third day Bertha coughed five times and 
then stopped, choked by her own importance, I 
think. She was silent for three days. Everyone 
said our aviators had hit her w^here the chicken 
got the ax, but it turned out that she had re- 
ligious ideas and thought the better the day the 
better the deed, for on Good Fridav moi'ninc: she 
came to with a roar. She hit a church full of people, 



28 THE BIG SHOW 

killed seventy-six, wounded ninety. Of all the hor- 
rible things they have done, this to me was the most 
tragic. The victims were mostly mothers, sisters 
and wives offering a prayer for their dear ones. 

But even this tragedy did not touch the courage 
of Paris, for there were bigger things to face. 

The Germans were advancing. The British held 
them valiantly for two days and then the Boche 
broke through with fur3\ They had taken St. 
Quentin, Peronne, Baupaume, Noyon — and were 
nearly to Amiens; our big American General came 
forward and said every man and gun of the Ameri- 
can Army was at the service of the French, to do 
with as they would. Surely these were great days 
to be living in. 

Bertha barked every day, rain or shine — and 
sometimes at night. 

The Huns came and dropped hell from the sky. 
Many people were killed in Paris, but the one great 
thought was that the Germans must be stopped, 
and they were I With Amiens almost in their grasp 
they were stopped. 

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Some bought 
drinks on the strength of it. There was a wave of 
gayety. The theaters filled up to overflowing, and 
the next day the big gun hit a nursery and killed 
thirty mothers and babes I 

No, the Hun was not stopped. 

After one of the most hectic days and nights I 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 29 

ever hope to have we started out on our second 
trip. 

By this time thej had passed a law allowing no 
motors to leave Paris without special permission. 
So we had rather a hard time, but finally made a 
" getaway " again in the Packard — and though I 
should never have left Paris during her days of 
stress had my work not been elsewhere, I don't 
mind admitting that we were glad to get out — for 
compared to Paris (as many of the boys on leave 
said) any old battle front was like Philadelphia 
on Sunday. 

Soldiers, and Then More Soldiers 

Friday. Nevers. 

Left Paris at noon, stopped at dear old Fon- 
tainebleau for lunch. When I say dear old 
Fontainebleau I mean it. Our lunch at the Hotel 
de France et Angleterre cost so much I wanted to 
give it back. They are such splendid robbers there 
that thev had to add An2:leterre to their name as a 
sort of protection. There were some Americans 
" even there," dressed in French blue, studying gun- 
nery at the French artillery school. How did we 
guess that they were Americans? Heard them 
ordering lunch in French! 

We raced a Rolls-Royce on the way down, and 
trimmed it " so pretty." 



30 THE BIG SHOW 

Arrived here at six — changed — and went to din- 
ner with the officers. It is really a shame the way 
the American Army is picked on regarding food! 
We only had sonp, eggs, fish, two kinds of meat — 
salad, custard, tarts and a few other little things, 
poor boys! War is ! 

After dinner we drove out to the engineers' 
camp. The show was in what is called a round- 
house — really a repair shop for sick engines. 

When we arrived they said they had a good 
entrance for me if I was not afraid. I murmured, 
" You know me, Al. Lead me to it ! " So I rode 
up a track in the middle of the place on a regular 
Baldwin locomotive, not in the cab, but on the cow- 
catcher, waving my free arm. The fellows fell back 
on either side and the engine took me right up to 
the platform, then " toot-tooted " and backed out. 

What a wonderful crowd! 

I sang, told stories and cut up generally for an 
hour. They had some local talent — a quartette 
that was splendid. They taught me the following 
to the tune of the " Old Gray Mare " : 

Oh, Uncle Sammy, he's got artillery, 
He's got the infantry, 
He's got the cavalry. 
But when he wants to get into Germany 
He'll send for the Engineers I 

There were four thousand of them — all I have to 
say is Heaven help the Germans if he does! 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 31 

Saturday. 
Issouduriy Flying School. 

Left Nevers at noon. Had lunch at Bourges. 
Went up and took a look at the Cathedral. Mother 
loves them — personally I have waited outside of 
some of the finest ones in Europe. Not being a 
Catholic I always have the feeling I may be in- 
truding. However, we arrived here at three — ap- 
parently most of the W.W.'s (wild women) who did 
not crave Big Bertha's conversation came down 
here. The hotel is full of " cuties " (not cooties). 
We had to fight for our room — singular, please 
note. A comic room mth two serio-comic beds — 
covered with two of those enormous comfortables 
that the French hide their beds under — about two 
feet thick. And once under, your best friend could 
not find you. If as a child you have ever hidden 
under a haystack — you may grasp the idea. 

We left the hotel at five and drove out to the 
flying fields. 

After riding over the road, I was ready to fly 
anywhere with anyone rather than return over the 
same road. 

Simday, 
I still have a cold, so stayed in bed all day and 
got up in time to go out and give one show, at 
Valentine Field. 



32 THE BIG SHOW 

They have one wonderful dancer here — a young 
flyer who does steps that would make most profes- 
sionals sit up and bite their nails with envy. Also 
a fine jazz band. 

Monday. 
Chateau Mon Repos, Blois. 

Here we have fallen in right. Mr. and Mrs. C, 
Americans, asked us to stop with them as the hotels 
were all full. They have a lovely chateau. We ar- 
rived at tea-time — took hot baths — great event! 
Dressed, and went to the Y. hut, gave a long show 
— great bunch. One wonderful fellow who led the 
applause sings and cheers just like a cheer leader 
at a football game. 

Until tonight I had always been very careful about 
what stories I told, thinking that as I was playing 
Y.M.C.A. huts I should not go among the Young 
Christians and start anything by saying " Damn " 
or suchlike. Tonight when I had finished my per- 
formance, having told all my expurgated editions 
of stories, the local chaplain stepped on the stage 
and said, " Boys, I've got some great news for you. 
They are going to make Henry Ford Chaplain of 
the American Army, because Henry Ford has 
shaken hell out of more people than any one 
man.'^ 

After that I've decided to tell all my stories. 

If the Chaplain can get away with it, I can ! 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 33 

Tuesday. 
AngerSy Hotel dii Cheval Blanc. 

Left Blois at eleven. Our driver W. was taken 
ill — we picked up a wild Canadian who drove us 
to Tours, sixty kilos in one hour. Quite a change 
after W., who believes in safety first. 

We had lunch at Tours — and then came on to 
Angers. Had the doctor here. It's getting to be a 
habit. I don't think any of these Army doctors 
help me, but they certainly are good-looking. Gave 
a show to two thousand in an old Roman theater, 
which they use for anything from a prize fight to a 
cinema, but I felt quite at home. 

Wednesday. St. ^azaire. 

Of all the holes, this is the prize. Picked up a 
wonderful story that describes the place. Lots of 
the troops land here. One of the colored regiments, 
the first to come over, was stuck here for some 
time. One of the soldiers got enough and said if 
this was France and what we were fighting for, he 
was quite ready to stop. He went in to the doctor 
and said: 

" Doctor, I'm feeling very bad and I think there's 
something the matter with my head." The doctor 
beat all around the place and found nothing the 
matter with his head. Sam came every day, and 
every day the doctor told him there was nothing 
the matter with his head. Finally Sam said: 



34 THE BIG SHOW 

" Doctor, I don't see how a man of your intelli- 
gence can talk like dat. I was a porter in a Pull- 
man over in x\merica. I was getting about thirty- 
five dollars a week, and I volunteered to come over 
here. Now you know there is something the matter 
with my head/' 

I gave no show tonight. We were thoroughly 
worn out. 

My first cousin, who is condemned to some time 
here, came to see us. He joined as a private and 
has just got his commission. 

He has carefully concealed our relationship un- 
til now, but Fm afraid the beans are spilled now, 
as he was seen by several senior officers to meet 
and kiss us on the hotel steps. 

However, we will hope for the best ! 

Thursday. 

There is one attraction about this town. It is 
on the sea ! I suppose the sea can't pick the places 
it has to roll up against. We w^alked down to the 
docks — and saw Baldwin locomotives, motor trucks, 
automobiles and Fords being lifted out of the hold 
as if they were Christmas toys. It is marvelous 
what the}^ do. The French stand by open-mouthed 
while the Yanks take a small box of what looks like 
junk off a ship — and after about an hour's tinker- 
ing ride away in it — the " junk," I mean. 

I gave one show at the officers' club in the after- 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 35 

noon. Met a lot of attractive naval officers from 
a sea-plane station near here. 

Tonight I gave two shows at two different camps. 
Such rain — and such mud — but such " regular 
guys '' I Everywhere I go now the boys teach me 
some song. Tonight it was this — to the tune of 
" In My Harem 



?j 



In the Army, the Army, the democratic Army, 

Beans for breakfast. 

Beans for dinner, 

Beans at suppertime. 
Thirty- dollars every month, 

We never get a dime. 
In the Army, the Army, the democratic Army, 

All the Guvs and " wops " 

And the dirty Irish cops 

They're all in the Army, too! 

So they are — and that's just what makes it some 
Army! 

Friday. 
Captain C. came for us at noon and drove us 
out to Le Croissic — the sea-plane station. A more 
charming little fishing village one could not see, 
and right there on the beach where the simple 
fisherman used to drag in his nets there are enor- 
mous hangars and enormous sea-planes inside them, 
with enormous bombs hanging on them, all ready 
to bounce on the wily sub. These fellows patrol 
the coast and escort the ships in and out. 



36 THE BIG SHOW 

I gave them a show in a very pretty little Casino. 
Le Croissic in the old days was quite a smart little 
seaside resort. 

After the show we went out to watch the patrol 
go off. Three kids went out to protect the coast. 
It seemed almost impossible to believe that these 
mere boys who perhaps would rather be playing on 
the beach could be putting a foot on the lever to let 
fall death and destruction. They went off laugh- 
ing and singing, and I found myself hoping they 
would not see anything, so they could keep on 
singing. 

The fellows tell me that killing people is apt to 
change your voice — it gets a little more harsh — 
however, we came back to St. Nazaire — had 
dinner. 

I gave one big show in the big hut in town. Two 
thousand. Then went on out to my cousin's crowd, 
where I had the honor of formally opening their 
new Y.M.C.A. — a lovely one. They had it all deco- 
rated with flowers and flags — a regular stage and 
footlights. 

Afterwards the officers gave a supper for us. 
Captain C. told me a story which I have added to 
my bunch. 

Two coons in jail — talking through the bars. 

Mose. How long you in here for? 

Sam. Oh, I'm in for twenty years. 

Mose. Twenty years? What did you do? 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 37 

Sam, I robbed the General's house. How long 
you in for? 

Mose. Three days. 

Sam, What did you do? 

Mose. 1 killed a Sergeant. 

Sam. How that come? I rob a house I'm in here 
for twenty years. You kill a man you only get 
three days! 

Mose. Yes, I know, but they're going to hang 
me Wednesday. 

Saturday. Nantes. 

Got up at ten — went out to lunch at the Motor 
Transport Camp. Saw hundreds of American cars, 
tractors and trucks. They are all assembled here 
and then sent by road to the front. After lunch 
went out to Base Hospital No. 101. Gave a show 
— the first big crowd of colored soldiers I have 
played for. They are a great audience, and when 
I sang " Ragtime Strutters' Ball " they just 
" whooped." One of them came up and asked me 
if he could tell me a story; then he told me one that 
has been told to me at least ten times, so it must 
be good. 

Two colored soldiers talking about Army Insur- 
ance. One says, " I done took ten thousand dollars' 
worth of insurance." Other says, " Good Lord ! 
Why ! You ain't got no wife to leave it to." " No," 
replies his friend, " but you know Uncle Sam ain't 



38 THE BIG SHOW 

going to send no ten thousand dollar nigger up to 
the front." 

After the show there we left St. Nazaire with- 
out a tear, and came on to Savenay, about the 
largest American hospital in France. A lovely 
place. We dined with the nurses — and then I gave 
two shows, because there were too many for the 
" hut.- ' Poor dears ! they came in wheel-chairs 
and on stretchers — some pretty bad cases, but I 
never heard a crowd sing more wonderfully. When 
we left they limped and rolled out to the car, and 
as I sat back in it, thinking of how terrible it is 
that those mere " kids " should be suffering so, they 
were singing my version of " Over There '' which I 
taught them in the show. 

Over here — over here, 

Send a word, send a word — 

We are here ! 
And we all are working, 
You bet we're working, 
Not one is shirking, 

Have no fear! 
Mother dear, dr}^ that tear — 

Soon your worries 
Will all disappear. 
We are over — we're glad we're over, 
And we won't come back till it's over 

Over here. 

We came on into Nantes — famous little old place 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 39 

— and found a nice little modern hotel, with chintz- 
covered furniture. Our driver W. is ill again, so 
we are sunk, we are. 

Saumur. Sunday, 

This morning, Bill — the man who makes music 
for me — hustled around and borrowed another 
driver — a regular soldier this time, and a great 
character. I asked him how he liked France. He 
said " O.K.," but that he knew why the French 
people ate so many snails — they were the only 
things they could catch! 

We stopped at Angers and went out to the bar- 
racks, where Colonel B. put on a review of the 
troops for us. I stood and received the salute as 
they passed; they did look wonderful. Colonel B. 
is a West-Pointer, and a great war booster. He 
exudes " pep " and his men give him great satis- 
faction. 

After the show the men were standing in line 
for mess. I went up with them and ate some 
beans with one, and sniear — otherwise known 
as jam — with another; they loved it and so 
did I. 

Came on to Saumur. Through some mistake our 
rooms had been given to someone else. An officer 
offered us his, and we took it gratefully — a small 
single room — and they put a cot in, which gave 
Mother and Elsie something to argue about for 



40 THE BIG SHOW 

an hour. Who should have the cot? Mother won, 
as usual! 

There is an enormous officers' school here. I 
gave the show to at least fifteen hundred of them. 
Lots of French instructors, so I sang quite a lot 
of French. My translation of " I don't want to get 
well ! " into French goes very well. Our fellows 
are all getting so they can speak enough French to 
get most anything from a toothbrush to the village 
belle! Saumur is where they teach officers who 
have been officers for ^Ye or six months how to be 
an officer! 

They were a great audience, and as there w^ere no 
privates there the officers did not have to behave, 
so we had a good old rough house — fifty-minute' 
show! 

Monday. 
Chateau de Mon Repos, Blois, 
Called up Nantes to ask if we could keep our 
driver another day, and received a most military 
" No ! " So we came on here and wished ourselves 
on Mr. and Mrs. C. for the night. The driver went 
back to Nantes. 

Tuesday, 
Crillon, Paris, 
Left Blois at eleven, driven once more by the 
speed king who drove us from Blois to St. Nazaire 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 41 

— we made Paris with him in what seemed about 
a half-hour. As we entered the Porte d'Orleans 
Big Bertha gave one gigantic cough which shook 
the Packard as if it had been a rat I That one was 
too near to be funny, and it killed fourteen. Some 
people say " Bertha " is quite harmless, but then 
some people like rattlesnakes and Germans. 

We stayed three days in Paris. Had a raid every 
night and " Bertha " off and on. I gave two shows 
for soldiers and notified my managers that I could 
not play in Paris for another month. 

The French brought down a German raider — 
very satisfactory three days, except that w^e were 
cheated out of what we really came to Paris for — 
a hot bath. They now only allow hot water Satur- 
day and Sunday. We arrived on Tuesday and left 
on Friday. Ah ! yes, kind reader, fear not, I took a 
cold one! 

Saturday. 
Tours, Hotel de VXJnivers. 
Not wishing to spend two weeks in Paris getting 
another permit to go away for one week, we came 
to Tours by train. Very nice hotel. The Battle of 
Tours is a very splendid one. The town is jammed 
with Bertha-dodgers. I gave a show in the " Opry 
House," wore a real honest-to-God evening gown, 
and my back was so cold that I picked up a table- 
cover and used it as a shawl. There were fourteen 



42 THE BIG SHOW 

Generals in the audience — three French, eleven 
American. I wanted to ask who was running the 
War, but I saluted instead. Wonderful crowd, and 
even the Generals could not hold us down. 

We have hot water here every day — and hush! 
I had a small piece of butter tonight at dinner. 
Aye ! verily, 'tis nice ! ye Battle of Tours. 

Sunday. 

We had lunch with General A. and his aide, then 
started for St. Aignon, General A.'s headquarters. 
We stopped en route at Chateau Chenonceaux, one 
of the most lovely chateaux in France ; very famous 
historically. One room claims to have held five 
queens in its time. Sounds to me as if someone 
had stacked the deck. Now, as is quite fitting in 
these days of falling crowns, the chateau is owned 
by Monsieur M., the Chocolate King. He has 
turned it into a most wonderful hospital for the 
French. We went through the wards giving ciga- 
rettes to the men. The chateau is built across a 
river. In the old days I believe the kings threw 
their cast-off lady friends out of the windows into 
the river, but today the gallant wounded men of 
France fish from the same windows, so Chenon- 
ceaux is a really useful place at last. 

We went on to St. Aignon, where we dined with 
General A. and staff in the wonderful old Chi\teau 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 43 

of St. Aignon. Where there are Generals in 
France, there must be chateaux ! 

It's a hard war ! but before it started we Ameri- 
cans used to come over here and spend " heavy 
American dollars " to stand on the outside of one 
of these places, and maybe be allowed to see the 
stables, but now Americans are hanging their " tin 
lids " on some of the most royally historic hooks in 
France. C'cst la guerre! 

Gave a show to about three thousand, a nice 
rough bunch. Came back right after. The Ger- 
mans are starting again around Arras. 

Monday. 

Rather a quiet day. Only four shows ! Went to 
lunch at General K.'s chateau. Speaking of Gen- 
erals, I now have two stars, so am a Major- 
General. 

Went out to the aviation field after lunch and 
gave a show for the fellows who are not allowed in 
Tours. Someone has to take care of the camp, I 
suppose, even if there is an actress in the village. 
Saw lots of our fellows flying, one had a machine 
all red-white-and-blue stars and stripes all over it. 
They have a " Liberty " 'plane here also. I think 
they are going to send it around on a tour of camps 
until the others come. 

Came home, had dinner and dressed at same 
time. Sounds acrobatic, but with the French serv- 



44 THE BIG SHOW 

ice in the rooms nowadays one could easily bathe 
between courses. 

I gave two more shows in the " Opry House." 
One at seven and one at nine. There were no Gen- 
erals tonight, so we cut loose. Afterwards we went 
to the opening of a new officers' club. The club 
was new, not the officers. I sang two or three 
songs, standing on the refreshment table. Picked 
up a good story. 

" A young cadet going up for his first flight. 
The pilot starts looping and diving. Cadet yells, 
' Hey ! go easy, this is my first flight.' Pilot says, 
^ You've got nothing on me ; it's only my second ! ' " 

Tuesday. Bordeaux. 

We left Tours at eleven in an open Packard, with 
a Dr. D., who spends his time and mone}^ trying to 
give our fellows pleasure. He offered to drive us 
down, and it was a charming trip. Stopped at 
Poitiers for lunch. I must say Bordeaux is too far 
away from action to suit me, but if these poor fel- 
lows in the camps can stand it I can. 

Here we are staying with Mrs. A. and Ethel R. 
They run the Y.M.C.A., and they are perfectly won- 
derful. To see them frying eggs and dishing out 
pie to our boys for hours at a time, one would 
think it was their real profession. The boys don't 
know who they are. I heard one say that " the tall 
blonde at the Y. was some skirt " ! 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 45 

They have a lovely house, and it is nice to be 
" homey " for a day or so. The only suggestion of 
war being that one of these splendid American girls 
goes every morning at seven, and that to me is 
war with all its horrors. No show tonight. I feel 
almost like a real lady — only not too much so to 
spoil my enjoyment. 

Wednesday, 
My breakfast was brought in to me on a charming 
pre- War tray. I felt almost abandoned. We all 
went out to lunch on what used to be a well-known 
yacht — more than well-known to Mrs. A. The 
yacht had come in for coal. She — the yacht — is 
certainly one of war's stern realities. (No pun on 
"stern"!) She is a very dangerous-looking grey- 
hound of the sea, and instead of cruising about as 
in the old days looking for pleasure she now speeds 
here and there looking for trouble. It seemed to me 
she was purring with pleasure under the tread of 
feminine feet lulled by sweet memories of other 
days. Nice crowd of American men aboard her 
who looked like they might get anything they went 
after. 

We came right ashore after lunch ! Went to a big 
camp a few miles out tonight and gave one hour's 
show. I was to give another at the Colored Sol- 
diers' Y.M.C.A., but we found out just in time 
that the colored soldiers were French Senegalese 



46 THE BIG SHOW 

troops, and in the midst of the show a most terrible 
storm came on putting out all lights. So as I don't 
sing Senegalese and my voice is not the kind that 
will stand darkness, w^e called off that show. 

These Senegalese just look like our colored men, 
and they speak French. They were telling me of 
American colored troops arriving here. Seeing 
these of dusky hue working on the docks, one of 
ours yelled, "Hello there, Rastus ! Shoot a dime? " 
The Senegalese looked blank and murmured, '^^ Je 
ne le comprends pas! '■, w^hereupon our friend from 
Alabam yelled out, " Good Lord, here's a nigger 
what's been here so long he's done forgot his own 
talk ! " 

Thursday. 
Woke up feeling so sort of luxurious that I had 
my hair washed. General S. has practically turned 
his car over to us. We went to one camp, gave a 
show there, came back, and I dolled up and gave 
another in the local Town Hall. The audience was 
partly French and the Mayor came around to con- 
gratulate the ^^ artiste.^' I think the fellows had 
told him that I was the Bernhardt of America. 
Poor man ! he must find it hard to reconcile himself 
to my " cartwheels." 

Friday. 
Went out to an enormous artillery camp. When 
we arrived some colored soldiers were playing base- 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 47 

ball. They had a fine jazz band. Gave a fifty- 
minute show. 

The officers gave me a lovely bunch of flowers 
which they must have sent to Town for, as camps 
and flowers don't grow together as a rule. After 
the show we went on the platform outside the 
hut and had the band play a fox-trot. I danced 
with eighteen, one right after the other — my idea 
of a good time. One dance, eighteen partners. No 
monotony ! 

Saturday, 
Today has been wonderful. When we arrived 
here, I received a pathetic letter from some engi- 
neers and wood-choppers way down in a place 
called Pontex, saying they had been there six 
months and had had no amusement, so we decided 
to go. We left Bordeaux at eleven in General S.'s 
car. It rained all day long. On the way down we 
saw a Canadian camp by the side of the road with 
a lot of the saddest-looking men I ever saw wading 
around in mud to their knees. We stopped and 
asked them if they had had a show lately. They 
also had had nothing for months. These poor boys 
are not in the firing-line, but they make it possible 
in many ways. Well, we said that we would stop 
that night on the way back. I've never heard three 
more lusty cheers than they gave. We went on to 
Pontex. The most awful road now which used to 



48 THE BIG SHOW 

be the famous road to Biarritz. We arrived at 
about five. Such a dump. Even the officers still 
sleeping in tents. I had a fearful grouch when I 
arrived, but when I saw our boys arriving, having 
marched ten miles from the depths of the woods, 
smiling, singing and cheering, I felt so glad to be 
able to be there, and I think I gave one of the best 
shows I've ever given in the middle of the village 
square, with just a little platform, with a tent cover 
over it. Eather like a Punch and Judy show. 
Those boys went wild, and they had nothing on me. 

We had dinner in a queer little house, where the 
poor old lady had lost two sons and three grand- 
sons, and was still able to smile a smile that was 
nothing short of heavenly. The fellows said they 
could last another six months on joy. 

I've never been a glutton for praise, but I cer- 
tainly cherish every word of it that these fine men 
give me. Sincerity is their middle name. 

We came back and stopped at the Canadian camp. 
They were all in the hut waiting — such a fine crowd 
— mostly 1914 men who have been invalided out of 
their active regiments and sent down here. Most 
of them had seen me either in Canada, London or 
New York. I taught them to sing " Over Here '^ 
just as if they were Americans, and believe me, they 
sang it. 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 49 

Sunday. Tours. 
We left Bordeaux and our charming hostesses at 
about two, by train, arrived here at five. No show 
tonight ; not because it is Sunday, but because the 
leading lady is all in. Therefore, as Mr. Pepys 
would say, "And so to bed and with much 
pleasure." 

Monday. 

For the next four days we are doing one-nighters 
around Tours, and returning to same for the night. 
Gave two shows today. Left Tours after lunch, 
and went to a tiny place called Celles-sur-Cher 
(pronounced by Americans now occupying the posi- 
tion as " Celles-sewer-Chair "! ) . 

Dined at the General's house; he was away — 
probably at the War. Gave the show in the old 
chateau. My! how I would like to meet a young 
chateau for a change ! 

The Count and Countess who live in this aged 
one sent me lovely flowers from their garden. 
Their young son about fourteen presented them 
with his best " those wishing to view the body '^ 
expression, but when I thanked him in French he 
became the real smiling Frenchman. Funny how 
English saddens the Latin people! 

From there we rode ten miles to Pont-le-Voi — 
I shall not tell what our boys call it — however! 
The show was given in what used to be Napoleon 



50 THE BIG SHOW 

Ill's Riding School. Tonight it held three thou- 
sand of the finest thoroughbreds ever seen. The 
band came up from Tours and helped me out a bit. 
These fellows sang a good parody on " The Long, 
Long Trail" : 

There's a long, long trail a-winding 

To No Man's Land out in France ; 
Where the shrapnel shells are bursting, 

But we must advance. 
There'll be lots of drills and hiking 

Before our dreams all come true, 
But we're going to show the Kaiser 

What the Yankee bovs can do. 

Tuesday. 
We found out that nineteen miles from here 
there is a British flying school. So our flying com- 
manders thought it would be nice to pay them the 
compliment of calling, as they know we are in 
Tours. I said " calling " was out of my line, but 
that I would give them a show. So today we 
went out to the American flying field, had lunch at 
the officers' mess, and then went on over to Ven- 
dome — the British naval flying school. It rained, 
so there was no flying, and all work was called off. 
I gave them a show at three in the most delightful 
miniature theater, with lights, spot-lights, all colorj 
— a splendid orchestra, stage hung in golden-colored 
silk draperies, a stage manager — in fact, every- 
thing. They were a wonderful audience, and it 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 51 

seemed like England again to hear them yell 
" 'Core ! 'Core ! " which sounds rather personal but 
really means ''Encore! ^' After the show we had 
tea and looked around the camp. It is a garden 
spot, with small cottages and flowers all around 
them. Pansies and forget-me-nots seem to be the 
most popular flowers — rather nice idea for a flying 
school. I don't believe any of these cadets can be 
over seventeen — mere babies. We dined with the 
officers. They have a large table in the shape of 
a horse shoe, and all the formality of London. The 
best stewards of the best ships serving, each fellow 
has his own sugar tin, tea rations, etc. One thing 
which impressed me immensely was that when we 
were all seated the Commander quietly tapped the 
table and said grace. After dinner they gave a 
show for us which was as good as anything I've 
ever seen. They had a " girl " who was so pretty 
that I was ashamed to g^t up on the stage after 
her, and was very thankful that my skirts were not 
as short as "hers." Comparisons are odious! 

" She " asked me if I had a spare evening gown, 
so I am going to send " her " one. They said " she " 
is a '^ damn good little mechanic/' They taught me 
their favorite song, which I love : 

Good-bve-ee ! Good-bve-ee ! 

Dry the tear, baby dear, 
From your eye-ee. 



52 THE BIG SHOW 

Though it's hard to part, I know, 
I'm so tickled to death to go, 
Don't cry-ee, don't sigh-ee — 
There's a silver lining in the skj-ee. 

So long, old thing, 

Cheerv-oh ! Chinchin ! 
Na-pooh — toodle-oo — 

Good-bye-ee ! 

And we hated to say it. 

Wednesday. 
Left Tours after lunch in a very splendid-looking 
big army car, which lay right down and died on us 
halfway to our destination. There were no houses 
anywhere near us, and apparently no one wanted 
to go w^here we were going, as nothing came by. 
Finally, when we were just about ready to " hoof 
it " to the next town, a tiny speck appeared. Was 
it a dog running? No ! Was it one of those French 
goats gone wild? No! And it w^as not a Ford. 
Fooled again. It was a Dodge — one of the smallest 
unimportant-looking Dodges I ever saw — ^but to us 
a super-Rolls-Royce. We hailed it — there were 
three men in it, and one of the biggest bags I ever 
saw. The officer in the back seat leapt out — sighs 
of relief, he knew me! He would take us. Well, 
as we w^ere three and they were three, it was no 
joke for the Dodge, but she snorted and ran like 
mad. The Major, it turned out, was the paymaster 
— the man the boys write songs about ! — hence the 
huge satchel. He was very nice. I sat on his lap 




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SOLDIERS, THEN MOKE SOLDIERS 53 

most of the way, but liin orderly sat on the satchel — 
so the boys got paid that night. 

We gave two shows at a place called Oievre. It 
was a Y.M.C.A. General Headquarters, and when I 
walked onto the platform about twenty Christians, 
some young, some old, were sitting there. When 
it came to high-kicking, turning cartwheels and 
telling stories which the boys have taught me right 
in their Christian laps — I was rather nonplussed — 
but I must say they had all the staying powers of 
their martyred ancestors. When I missed one of 
them by about two inches he merely held out his 
arms — real Christian spirit. 

At this place there is an American-built ice plant 
about half a mile long. It is almost magical, the 
things our men have built in so short a time. I'm 
sure someone has Aladdin's lamp and he certainly 
is working it overtime. 

Two or three davs later we went back to Paris 
after a few more show^s around Tour-s. Before 
leaving there we went to a dance out at the avia- 
tion camp, given by the officers for the U.S. tele- 
phone girls who are here saving the time and tem- 
per of the A.E.F. I loved seeing them, such a nice 
crowd of girls, and though Tours is full of wild 
Frenchwomen, some famed for good looks, our boys 
all claim that these " hello girls " are the best- 
looking girls in France. 

We got back to Paris in the midst of an air raid, 



54 THE BIG SHOW 

which I must say was rather a relief. The Battle 
of Tours was very nice and everything, but rather 
quiet. 

After a few clays in Paris, during which we noti- 
fied my French and English managers that I could 
not get interested in any theater but the theater of 
war — at least until fall — we started for that same 
theater, the real American Front, known as the 
Toul Sector — and though we loved every second in 
France the real fun began when we got up where 
roads were camouflaged and we could hear the guns 
all the time — not the air raid barrage — but the big 
American guns that were sending real American- 
made hell into Germany night and day. 



THE YANK SPEAKS 

Don't think, Tommy, we don't know just what youVe 

had to do, 
Believe me, kid, we realize the hell that you've been 

through ; 
When we came in, we came in strong, but one thing 

sure is true. 
They'd have never stopped in Flanders if it hadn't been 

for you. 

We watched you fight from over there and wished that 

we were here, 
And now that we have started we will finish, never 

fear! 



SOLDIERS, THEN MORE SOLDIERS 55 

But Oh! jou Britisli Navy, it's you that helped us 

through, 
'Cause we wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for 

you. 

And everything that we do now you guys have done 

before, 
Don't think we've got the idea we came and won the 

War ; 
We came to fight and fight we did, but all the time we 

knew 
We'd be practicing our German if it hadn't been for 

you. 

And one thing now is certain — when they end the whole 

darn show, 
When they riug the final curtain, there is one thing 

we all know ; 
They used to call us cousins and some today still do, 
But no matter what we used to be, we're brothers now 

to you ! 

Note. — This was written because so many people thought that 
Americans thought we had fought the entire War. As I knew 
that the fighting men of the A.E.F. were not boastful and 
realized thoroughly what England had done. 



CHAPTER IV 

TouL. The American Front 

AT last we reach the real '^ Zone des ArmeesJ' 
/-\ The French won the argument about the 
motor pass. Had we waited we might have 
had permission, but I was afraid the War might 
end before we could convince them that my pres- 
ence was really desired by our troops. I think they 
suspected me of having a husband up in Toul. I 
admit that had I one I should be very proud to 
have him here with such a crowd of " regular guys." 

We came up by train; were met at the station 
by General E.'s aide, who turned out to be an old 
friend. We came to a little hotel called Hotel de la 
Comedie — should be tragedy! 

In this sector we are taken over by the Army, and 
very nice, too. We were informed that the General 
did not think I should play after such a tiring 
trip, so we were to dine with him quietly and dis- 
cuss our line of musical attack on the Toul front. 
We climbed up to our palatial suite of two tiny 
rooms on the top floor, nice and handy for air raids. 
We dressed, which means that we washed our 

56 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 57 

smudgy faces, and put on our other waists, then 
we were whirled away in a very important-looking 
Army car, out to Headquarters. Toul is about 
seven miles back from the lines, and that's much 
too far from things for this fighting General, so he 
has a chateau out at a place called Bouc — looks 
rather like it sounds, but I must say the General 
has a good front-row seat for the fight. He can 
walk out on a sort of terrace and see two or three 
German sausage observation balloons any time 
things get dull. Very nice, but I could not help 
wondering if their eyesight w^as as good as the 
General's ! 

They have just had a " show " up here and the 
General showed us on the war-map w^hat our boys 
have done. The French have decorated them all. 
Croix de Guerre are as thick as " cooties," no 
thicker than that, because up here they don't give 
the elusive " cootie " a chance to say " Kamarad '' ; 
they have what they call " delousing stations " and 
it is quite against orders for anyone to harbor a 
" cootie." A delousing station is a very nice-looking 
place. You go in one side with full equipment, in- 
cluding " cooties," field mice, and other souvenirs 
of war, and you come out the other side with noth- 
ing left but your reputation, and not too much of 
that. It means about two days' rest, though, so 
it's getting rather popular. They tell me that up in 
the front line one fellow offered to trade his Ger- 



58 THE BIG SHOW 

man Iron Cross, pinched from a dead-ed Hun, for 
a nice live " cootie " which would prove as a free 
pass back to the local Turkish bath! Enough of 
"cooties," dead Germans and other such — ! 

We dined with General E. and staff, a charm- 
ing lot of men. The General has issued a regular 
Army Order that I am to be in " the order of the 
day.'' I feel very important. He also gave me a 
red motor pass to the forward areas. We heard the 
booming of the guns all through dinner and then 
someone remarked that there was a little show on, 
so we went out on the terrace and were introduced 
to star shells, Very lights, one-fifty fires, and so 
on. What a wonderful sight! A glorified Fourth 
of July, the kind every kid dreams of having. Red 
lights — green — what a nasty idea a Very light 
is — the man who invented it must have been the 
kind who motored through the parks turning his 
searchlight on the loving couples. 

The constant cannonade was awe-inspiring. I 
don't understand how they get the gunners to keep 
it up all night. We came home about nine-thirty. 
Captain S. brought us in. When we arrived in 
front of the hotel I heard an aeroplane, so I said, 
" Isn't he out rather late? " Captain S. looked at 
his watch and said, " That's a Britisher. In about 
twenty minutes you will hear about thirty of them. 
The British airmen go over to bomb Germany every 
night." 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 59 

I tried not to hang my mouth open in sheer won- 
derment, but when I got upstairs about ten minutes 
later I found it still open. 

At about ten we were all ready to call it a day 
and turn in, when suddenly the air started to buzz 
and throb. We slipped on coats, switched off lights, 
and stepped out onto the little balcony, and sure 
enough, there they were — just like so many taxi- 
cabs, with lights on their wings and tails, running 
opposition to the stars. They were so loaded with 
nice juicy bombs for Metz, Coblenz and others that 
they really groaned under the weight. One by one 
they disappeared into the night, wagging their tail- 
lights behind them. 

There seemed to be a mother and father aero- 
plane who sort of showed them the way, and they 
did not go, for we could hear them buzzing around. 
Mother and I pinched each other to be sure it was 
not a dream. Such courage. I can imagine going 
up all right, but think of coming down in the dark ! 

We went to bed, but not to sleep. We could still 
hear mother and father up there. Why? we asked. 
But we were soon answered. At about ten-thirty- 
five, the chickens started to come home to roost. We 
leapt out again onto the balcony. This time they 
were not groaning, they were singing and, having 
dropped their bits of " hail," came running home 
like bad children. Now we understood why mother 
and father were there. Far across the sky towards 



60 THE BIG SHOW 

Bocheland two tiny lights appear. The engine sings 
a little louder. Nearer it comes, then up on one 
side mother lights her eyes. And says, " Come this 
way, child." On the other side, father says, " Well 
done, child! Go to bed." 

We could not count them going out, as they were 
apparently in formation, but coming home w^e dis- 
tinctly counted twenty-four, and we both said a 
little prayer and hoped a little hope that only 
twenty -four had gone out that night. 

From diary. Wednesday. 

I think Toul must have given up the idea of sleep 
for the duration of the War. Toul can certainly 
afford to, as it has been sleeping soundly for hun- 
dreds of years. 

The "Archies" (anti-aircraft guns) w^oke me this 
morning. A snoopy, but rather nervy Hun came 
over, supposedly to take pictures; personally, I 
think to find out w^here the concert w^as going to 
be, because in the midst of same this afternoon 
along came a Boche, sailed around over us and went 
home. Rather rude, I thought, even for a German. 
After all, I can't help it if I don't sing Wagner 
and if I had he would have gone even sooner. 

Gave my afternoon show up back of the lines in 
w^hat is called a rest camp. I imagine it is so called 
because the mud is so deep that if you once step in 
it you rest there. The fellows had just come out of 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 61 

the line. The show was out of doors — the stage two 
tables ^* wished " together. The boys seemed rather 
shocked to see me at first. I don't wear a uniform, 
and I'm the only girl I've met who does not. They 
were fine, though. They gave me souvenirs they 
had picked up, pins, medals, German coins, etc. 

When I finished I asked if they had any home 
talent, so a nice-looking boy got up and sang a 
parody which he had written on " The Sunshine of 
Your Smile," as follows: 

This is some life we're leading, me and you ; 

But cheer up, old pal ! this War must near be through. 

We from the States must fight, yes, man to man, 

Till Peace reigns in Europe and the U.S.A. so grcmdy 

Then give us a boat or anything that floats, 

Volunteers or draft 

We'll take chances on a raft; 

Give us the chance, you'll find that we won't stall 

As long as it gets back to the best land of them all. 

Bless their hearts! They are all cheery, and 
ready to do all they can. They like France, but 
they love America, and the slogan up here is 
" Heaven, Hell or Hoboken by Christmas ! " 

We came back to the hotel to dinner. If vou 
could call it that. Napoleon said an army travels 
on its stomach. Well, I'm glad the Army is not 
stopping in this hotel. They would never make the 
front-line trenches, let alone Germany! 



62 THE BIG SHOW 

Tonight went out to another crowd who were 
just going into the line. The band met me, and 
what a band ! They marched ahead of us playing 
" Over There/' Gave the show on a platform built 
up against the local Plaza, which was one story 
high with a big shell-hole in the roof, making a per- 
fect ventilating system. A Boche 'plane came over 
and the boys yelled, " Come on down, you poor 
boob, and see a good show ! " They were very ex- 
cited about going into the line and all asked what I 
wanted them to bring back. I said, " Yourselves, 
please.'' 

After the show I took the drum-major's stick and 
led the band down the road. Got so excited that I 
forgot we must turn off for the road to Toul and 
walked about a quarter of a mile too far, then I 
didn't know how to stop them. So I held the baton 
up over my head, and sure enough they stopped 
like one man. I never could understand people fol- 
lowing a band through the streets, but I certainly 
know the fascination of leading one now. 

Thursday/. 

We rode over to Nancy to lunch. Poor old 
Nancy! The Huns have certainly picked on her. 
I couldn't help saying " I knew her when 1 ! " 

The hotel that we stopped at when motoring 
through this country before the War just isn't any 
more. They bomb Nancy 'most every night, and 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 63 

still these brave people " carry on." It is wonder- 
ful. We came back, went out to Bouc, where I gave 
my show in the village square in a prize-fight ring 
they had last week for a fight. Had an enormous 
crowd on all four sides which made it rather diffi- 
cult. I asked them to please close in on three 
sides, for though I knew the back was the best part 
of a goose I was rather scared of an attack from the 
rear ! 

The General came and stood among his men, re- 
fusing to sit down while the men could not. I 
suppose he figured if the men could stand for the 
show, he could ! He made a charming little speech 
of thanks to me and as he left the men cheered un- 
til he was out of sight. Then I had Bill play a fox- 
trot and invited the boys to dance with me. They 
leapt into the ring, and no matter who fought in 
that ring last week, I know their staying powers 
were no better than mine. I danced with eleven in 
the broiling sun. All privates, and some dancers, 
believe me! 

Gave another show at seven at Minet-le-Tour 
(called Minnie Letourrr by us!). Nice girl, but we 
had very bad weather. Wind blowing, a little rain 
now and then, and another prize-fight ring. I ad- 
mit that I have a weakness for prize-fights — but I 
prefer a stage without ropes around it. In the first 
place I am quite sure on my feet and so far have 
not been knocked out. The ring was right on the 



64 THE BIG SHOW 

main road, and when ammunition trains were not 
snarling by going up to the front, the local church 
bell was ringing out in protest. " Poor Minne Le- 
tourrr! Look at her now and before the Yanks 
came ! " Last week prize-fighters and this week an 
actress I No wonder the church bell rang I 

Despite all the opposition I succeeded in giving 
about a forty-minute show. The boys were in the 
trees, up poles, on fences, in fact everywhere. As a 
finish I led the band and danced. When I turned 
my back on one bunch, which I could not avoid 
doing in the ring, they would moan and groan, so I 
felt rather like the revolving stage at the Century 
Theater, trying to face them all and only having 
one face! 

It was very muddy and damp, so two big M.P.'s 
(M.P. is the man who tells the A.E.F. how not to 
behave) carried me to the car, which took us on 
over to a flying field where another bunch were wait- 
ing for us. This time indoors, and quite a relief. 
Splendid stage, candle footlights, and flags hang- 
ing at the back. All this was in an enormous aero- 
plane hangar. There was such an echo that my 
voice came back and hit me in the face, but we 
had a great time. 

Colonel M., the boss of flying in these parts, made 
a very nice speech and then we went over to the 94th 
Squadron Headquarters and met all our American 
^' birds." Two very young and very nice-looking 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 65 

flyers who have the honor of bringing a nice live 
Boche with aeroplane down right in the heart of 
Toul. The Toulites declared a holiday and spent it 
kissing and cheering the two young heroes. They 
were both decorated, but really they don't need any 
decoration. Nature beat the French General to it, 
I think. 

We had a sing-song at the piano and then we 
came home firmly convinced that heroes are very 
nice. The commander of the squadron looked 
about eighteen, and is in reality an old gent of 
twenty-three. He had at least six decorations. He 
looked so young I thought he must have won them 
at baby shows, but no ! he is a wonderful " Boche 
buster/' and though an American joined the French 
Army as a simple poilu in 1914. Oh ! this is a great 
War! 

P.S. Tragic note. The baby " Boche buster " is 
married ! ! ! ! 

Friday, 
There is one glorious thing about having a natu- 
rally comic singing voice — you don't miss it when it 
is gone ! 

Minnie Letourrr and her church bells did my 
near alto in yesterday. I could hardly talk when 
I woke up, but seeing a couple of thousand dough- 
boys all smiling at you at once would make a dumb 
man speak, so it came back in the afternoon. 



66 THE BIG SHOW 

We lunched with General A., boss of artillery, 
on the lawn at his chateau. (Some day I know I 
will find a General who has only a house!) It was 
lovely. His staff also lunched with us and his band 
played during " eats." They played the music of 
all my shows and I went down to thank them, and 
found that the band leader had been in the 
orchestra at the Colonial Theater, Boston, where I 
have played a considerable portion of my career. 
He gave me his baton and I led his band. I think 
I shall have to keep a private band after the war — 
it's becoming a habit. 

From there we w^ent to Kangeval, where the stage 
was built in an old brickyard. I had only started 
when it began to rain some of the wettest rain I've 
ever met; no cover to the stage, of course, and as 
I had on my best and only suit, I got rather 
^^ panicky," so w^e stopped long enough for me to 
give the order for the boys to " take cover " under 
their slickers (raincoats) and borrow one of them 
for myself, also an overseas cap from another boy, 
a bit of canvas for Bill and the aged piano, and — 
then we " carried on." 

The rain never even stopped or hesitated. I was 
rather glad that my complexion is " a poor thing 
but mine own " and that my eyelashes don't wash 
off. Those bovs were too wonderful. Thev sat in 
puddles, but their enthusiasm was the kind that 
rain could not dampen. We had tea afterwards in 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 67 

the nice warm kitchen of an old monastery ; a sweet 
little Frenchwoman insisted on my warming my 
soaked self by the fire. I did, and then sang for her 
" Joan of Arc " in French. She wept bitterly — not 
at my singing, but because she had lost her " man " 
in the War. She showed us his picture and we wept 
with her. 

The boys came trooping in. I sniffed guiltily and 
murmured something about catching cold. 

She poured tea for those Yanks with smiling eyes 
and not a tear visible. I guess she has her tears 
well under control by now, as her man went away 
in 1915. 

From there we went on to Royamieux, where we 
dined in a sort of underground mess. I am sure 
that after the War all these men who have got used 
to descending and dining under shell-fire will hang 
about the Knickerbocker Grill and the Biltmore 
" baths " just because they are underground. Even 
the subway will become more popular! 

After dinner we went to the hut — the show was 
to be indoors — and I was delighted at the prospect 
until I got in, and found that there were just as 
many fellows outside as there were in, and a riot 
just about to take place. They were hanging on 
rafters on the roof, in fact everywhere, and it's 
rather hard to do your best to the accompaniment 
of such phrases as "Get off my neck, you big 



68 THE BIG SHOW 

stiff/' " Take your foot off my hip, you boob," and 
added to this the very tiny stage was absolutely lit- 
tered with French children — all sizes and each one 
possessing the same spirit that stopped the Huns on 
the Marne, only in this battle they were attacking. 
They had decided to see the show, and see it they 
did! Finally I realized that the party was get- 
ting rough, so I called a halt, and told all the out- 
siders and the rafter-hangers that if they would 
run away and play for a while I would give another 
show immediately after the one I was trying to 
give. I did so and had another riot trying to get 
the house emptied after the first show! Well, it 
was a great night, and I wish the Germans could 
have seen the attack on that Y.M.C.A. hut. They 
would inhale their own poison gas and die, all in 
one piece at least — because if the Yanks " attack " 
something they like in such style, what would they 
do to Germans!? 

Saturday. 
We went out to the aviation field for lunch. I 
must say the flyer's life may be the shortest, but it 
certainly is the sweetest. They live well, have regu- 
lar beds — it reminded me rather of a boys' school. 
After lunch they all go down to a sort of club- 
room on the field where they wait for an ^^ alerte '^ 
— which means Germans crossing the lines. At a 
certain time they go out and patrol, or rather look 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 69 

for trouble. It is lovely to hear them talking just 
like they had been out duck shooting. 

Conversation at lunch: 

First Flyer. Where were you when I dove on his 
tail? 

Second Flyer. I was lying up there on a cloud 
and just getting ready to go when I found a Fokker 
right under my nose. 

First Flyer. Did you bite him ? 

Second Flyer. Well, if I didn't, I fixed him so he 
won't bite anyone else. 

All this without any idea of bragging — just two 
good young sportsmen talking about the day's 
'' bag." 

After lunch went out towards the Front, and 
there in among the hills was the most lovely natural 
theater — three small hills and a little stage down 
in the heart of them. The fellows were spread all 
over the hills and in the trees. The sun made a 
most perfect spotlight. They presented me with 
flowers from the Curb's garden. I felt rather as if 
I was robbing some poor dear boy who has gone, 
as the Cur6 takes care of the little cemetery on the 
other side of one of the hills, but the boys were very 
proud of having flowers for me, so I thanked them 
and told them that Thorley never sent anything as 
nice. Went on and gave another show to some 
isolated gunners, then came back to Toul and be- 
came very social for the evening! 



70 THE BIG SHOW 

Having had a very charming invitation from 
General P. commanding 32nd French Division, we 
went to dine at his house. We had thought of 
course there would be Americans there, but we 
were ushered into a room where fourteen charming 
Frenchmen of all ages and ranks waited for us. 
One out of the fourteen spoke English ; he was the 
General's aide, and one of the best-looking men I've 
ever seen. As Mother only speaks a little French 
she drew this prize beauty — while I sat between 
^^ mon colonel et mon commandant,'^ with mon Ge- 
neral directly en face. The table was marvelous. 
He had had special flags made by the wounded 
poiliis; menus also painted by them — lovely 
bunches of poppies, cornflowers and marguerites, 
making the natural Red, White and Blue. It was 
altogether the most wonderful dinner I ever saw,, 
and that's all I did do — see it! Imagine thirteen 
charming Frenchmen all asking me questions at 
once! Even I, who flatter myself on being fairly 
speedy with the eating weapons, never succeeded 
raising one any further than about a level with my 
wish-bone. 

They were all most enthusiastic in their praise 
of our men. In fact, General P. is the one who 
personally decorated an entire Massachusetts regi- 
ment. I should have loved to see the dear old 
General kissing our fellows on both cheeks as he 
decorated them. He remarked about my collection 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 71 

of stars, which now numbers four. I am not sure 
he did not think I was Mrs. Pershing herself, but 
anyway he said I must have one of his stars, and 
that was much more to me than dinner. 

By the time dessert was reached I decided to 
grab some souffle or die in the General's house and 
embarrass him, so I saw my chance. You see, the 
whole thirteen worked in relays. One would ask 
a question, then he would eat while his neighbor 
carried on. Finally it came to mon coloneVs turn, 
just as the souffle arrived. He gave me my chance 
— by asking what kind of a man President Wilson 
was personally. I answered that I had not the 
honor of knowing him and fell into the souffle as 
they all tried to figure out why a lady who could 
wear four generals' stars and travel in the war zone 
in a military motor did not know the President. I 
just let them figure it out While I made the souffle 
do an Enoch Arden! Though I write of this flip- 
pantly, because it is my custom to write thusly — 
Mother and I were really very proud, and my only 
worry is that dear General P. thought we were 
much more important than we really are. How- 
ever, all fourteen have promised to come to see me 
when I play in Paris, and then they will know the 
worst ! 

Sunday. 
Today is a red-letter day for me. I have myself 



73 THE BIG SHOW 

personally killed a Gm'man and maybe three or four. 
At nine this morning we went with General A. np 
to the woods right back of the lines where the big 
gnns nestle in sweet seclnsion. We got out of the 
motor at the place where motors no longer are pos- 
sible, and got onto the cutest little narrow-gauge 
railroad, on a little car that usually carries shells, 
and this morning drew a couple of " duds • • — only 
a couple, because the (leneral is a regular lirst- 
class " high explosive '' in the artillery end of the 
war game. We rode through the loveliest green 
woods, going like mad (the narrow-gauge has any- 
thing at Coney Island beaten by miles!). We 
passed many big guns, all camouflaged by natural 
trees, and finally arrived at a battery of one hun- 
dred and fifty-fives. The General gave the word 
and the show commenced. Boom ! went one on our 
left some distance away. Boom I on the right, a 
little nearer, then the gunners where we were stood 
to attention — " Battery ready ! Fire ! '' came the 
order. They gave me some cotton for my ears, but 
I was afraid of missing something. Boom ! she 
went — and jumped back like a spirited horse — 
"Always the same! " came the order. 

" Now, Miss Janis, kill a few Huns,'' said the 
General. 

I took the little piece of cord which is called the 
laignon, and thrilling as I have never thrilled be- 
fore, I stood to attention and waited for my orders. 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 73 

" Battery ready ! Fire ! " said the General, and I 
pulled. I was so excited I forgot to jump. " Al- 
ways the same ! '' came the command, and I pulled 
again. I would be there still pulling only for the 
fact that the observation posts reported that there 
was nothing left of the position w^e had been shell- 
ing, and as it is a very expensive war I desisted and 
came away regretfully, but very proud. They told 
me I was the only woman who had fired regular 
hundred and fifty-five power hate into Ger- 
many. 

We started home, but as I had heard so much 
about a place called Beaumont, better known as 
Dead Man's Curve, I asked the General if we could 
not drive around said curve. He said it was very 
dangerous, but that if we wanted to take the chance 
he would. So we said " Hear ! hear ! " and started. 
When we got up near the curve we were stopped by 
an M.P. and told to put on our gas masks. We 
did so for a few moments, but I decided I would 
just as leave argue with the gas itself as be 
smothered to death, so we hung them around our 
necks. 

As we approached Beaumont, going through the 
remains of little French villages, we saw lots of 
our boys who were just having lunch. When they 
saw us they dropped their food in astonishment. I 
hung out of the car and yelled at them. We got up 
near the curve — a sign greeted ns: ^'Attention! 



74 THE BIG SHOW 

Vennemie vons voit! '' (Look out! the enemy can 
see you ! ) . I made the ugliest face I could, hoping 
that it was true. We approached the curve — shell 
holes big enough for a house to rest in on all sides 
of us. We waited breathlessly for Fritz to 
" strafe " us, but as it was lunch time he was evi- 
dently otherwise occupied. Nothing happened — in 
the way of excitement — except among the boys who 
w^ere up there. They seemed overjoyed and cheered 
us as we passed. 

We came back to lunch with General E. and I 
had lots of fun kidding about that terrible place 
called Dead Man's Curve. I said I had seen birds' 
nests in some of the shell holes and poUywogs in 
others, and that it was only a rumor about Fritz 
shelling it. He was not at all pleased at our hav- 
ing gone up, and informed me Fritz had been pick- 
ing on it all morning. I am glad we went at lunch 
time. 

After lunch I was feeling so important on ac- 
count of my morning's work that I had to convince 
myself that I was really there to entertain the 
boys, and not to strafe Huns. Gave a show at three 
for the ammunition trains fellows. I think they are 
exceedingly brave to go bumping along sitting on 
enough high explosives to blow up the Flatiron 
Building, and all the time under direct fire with no 
method of getting even. Had tea at a town called 
Lucy. I would like to know what all these girls 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 75 

had to do to have towns named after them ! Went 
on to another place, Lagny, at seven. 

This crowd were just out of trenches and between 
the joy of still being alive and the excitement of 
seeing a girl from home they very nearly went mad. 
I thought the French inhabitants of Lagny looked 
rather scared. Perhaps they thought the Yanks 
might decide to throw the village houses in the air 
as they did their overseas caps. We went back to 
Lucy to dine with the ammunition train crowd. 
They gave a show for us. Their little French 
liaison officer sang the French " Tipperary " — ■ 
" Madelon " ! We left them at about ten. They 
work at night, so their day was beginning. 

We came home by the most wonderful moonlight, 
as bright as day. There was a terrific cannonade 
going on, which seemed all wrong, according to 
my ideas of moonlight. I said '' What a wonderful 
night ! ' ' and then suddenly realized that the ammu- 
nition train would get it hot and heavy. So I sat 
back and hoped for rain. 

I shall hate leaving this sector. Everyone has 
been so nice, and I know I shall not have another 
manager like Captain F. who has been piloting us 
about. My " chief of staff '' they all call him. In 
fact they had a big sign made for the motor — 
^^ Elsie Janis Division. Captain A. F., Chief of 
Staff.'' I wish it was my division. 

We got home at midnight. There is a big 



7G THE BIG SnOW 

" show • ' going- on up front. They say our guns are 
making most of the row. Oh! gee! I wish I was 
pulling the string! 

Monday. 
We were to leave this morning, but the General 
sent word that there were thirty wounded from last 
night's raid out at the hospital, all fellows that I 
had sung for, and he thought they might like to 
see me. We went to lunch first up in the woods 
with the observation balloon crowd — very near the 
line and a strafe going on all through lunch. Very 
soon I shall write a new version to an old song — 
Gee ! but I like shell-fire with my meals. 

Afterwards went to the hospital, gave one show 
for the fellows who could move about in the " hut,'^ 
theji went through the wards to see the boys from 
last night's raid. Poor kids ! they had just gone in 
and were settling down when the Huns put on a 
gas show and got some of them quite badly, but 
they tell me that seventy dead Germans were 
counted — hanging on the barbed wire at dawn to- 
day, so that's not so bad for beginners. 

In one of the wards I found a Major who has been 
one of the fellows to boss the big gun that is named 
after me. There are two of them, big railway guns 
— one is " Betsy Ross " and the other '^ Elsie Janis." 
I am certainly proud, for he says we were chosen as 
being American patriots. I don't know that Betsy 



THE AMERICAN FRONT 77 

Uoss would like it, but I feel quite overcome by 
being mentioned with her. 

He told me that Elsie had just finished making 
a mess of a position when he got " his.'' He says 
she is some girl and has her name in large white 
letters written on her graceful but somewhat hard 
face. 

Saw one dear kid who was terribly bunged up. 
He had gone out to rescue two of his pals who were 
wounded and got them nearly in when they got 
liim. Also saw two little German boys both shot 
through the spine and paralyzed from the hips 
down. One is seventeen and looks like a girl. 
They are lying in the position one would like to see 
all the Huns in — on their backs, with both legs well 
in the air and about fifty different ropes and 
weights tied to them. 

When we went in they turned their heads away. 
I suppose they thought we had come to sneer at 
them, but somehow one does not sneer. A wounded 
man is a wounded man. I spoke to them in Ger- 
man, and they smiled. The pretty one showed me 
how he could ^'^ die Fiisse hcivegen^' and told me 
he was glad he was out of the battles. 

They tell a story up here of a young German boy 
whom they took prisoner; he spoke English, and 
one of our fellows asked him how he thought the 
War would end. He thought a while, and then 
said : 



78 THE BIG SHOW 

^^Well, we ought to win because we have God 
with us, but now that the Allies have America — 
ich wciss niclit!'' 

Tomorrow we leave, and I am sorry. This has 
been a wonderful week! And so, as the Huns say, 
^^ Nach Paris ^' — only we will get there and they 
never will! 



CHAPTER V 

Neuilly and Our Boys 

MY experience of the next three weeks might 
have been considered by some people ter- 
ribly sadj but to me it was very inspiring — 
we got back to Paris and learned that some two 
thousand wounded Americans had arrived at 
Neuilly, the American hospital. We were only sup- 
posed to stay in Paris three or four days, but I got 
into the hospital work and found myself more use- 
ful than I ever dreamed was possible. 

As soon as we heard of our heroes arriving, I 
called up the Red Cross and asked if they thought 
I might be of any use out at the hospital. They 
were very courteous, but not too enthusiastic, for 
if they had ever seen me in action singing " Over 
Here '' and urging our boys to go get the Germans, 
they probably thought I would be rather too strenu- 
ous for a ward full of very badly wounded men — 
as these boys all came from fighting which was tak- 
ing place all too near to Paris — then came direct 
from the field dressing stations to Neuilly. 

Well, the Red Cross said they thought I might 
take some cigarettes, flowers, chewing gum, etc., 

79 



80 THE BIG SHOW 

out to the boys; they did not say so, but I am sure 
they did not care about taking the responsibility of 
what might happen if I sang to the poor dears. 

However, we tvent — Mother took all the things 
people take to the wounded — and I took the broad- 
est grin I could produce — a grin which at first was 
not quite understood by the nurses, but they got 
used to it in time. 

They were so crowded at the hospital that our 
poor boys were lying in the halls, and in fact all 
over the place. 

I did not think to put on a hospital face, which 
is that sort of " My poor boy, where were you 
wounded?" expression, and I'm afraid I was per- 
haps a bit dressy. I remember thinking I was 
looking quite well. So when I bounded up to some 
very busy nurses, and said I wanted to work in 
the wards I don't think they quite understood my 
idea of '^ working '- in a ward. Luckily the first 
nurse who listened to my plea stuck her head 
in the door of a ward which was filled with boys 
who had sung with me and laughed with me a 
month before ** somewhere up front," and when she 
said, " r>oys, would you like to see Miss Elsie 
Janis? '' she was answered by a mixture of yells 
that I am sure were never heard before in a hos- 
pital. Of course my eyes filled with tears of genu- 
ine pride. You see, it was a crucial moment for me, 
for if they had not done that, my hospital career 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 81 

might have ended then and there, and oh ! what a 
lot of real jo}^ I Avould have missed. 

I did not stop to look at the nurse's expression, 
but I'm sure she thought I was the paymaster of 
the Army. 

We went in. They all said, '' Hello, Elsie, and 
hello. Mother!'^ 

There was not a man there who did not have 
one or two limbs in the air, all hung up on what 
I called gymnasium stuff, with that marvelous 
drainage system of the more marvelous Dr. Carrel 
which has saved hundreds of lives in this War. 

We laughed and even sang. I told them all my 
new stories and sang anything they asked for, and 
felt really useful to humanity for the first time in 
my life. 

When we came out, the word had gone around 
that w^e were there and there was a bevy of nurses 
saying, " Oh, Miss Janis, do come into my ward, 
the boys know you and are asking for you.'' 

That first day 1 went into seven wards and found 
more dear friends than I ever hoped to have. It 
would be foolish to say that it was not the most 
difficult work I ever did because it's rather hard to 
go in and be funny when your heart is aching at the 
thought of so many wonderful men all maimed, suf- 
fering, and some dying. I am not very sympathetic 
and would run a mile rather than see hJood — but 
there w^ere so many splendid women there to sym- 



82 THE BIG SHOW 

pathize that I was not needed for that; so while 
Mother, who is a past mistress in that art, held 
boys' heads while they had their wounds dressed, I 
went in other wards and tried to make them forget 
that they had wounds. I could write pages of the 
bravery of our men, not under fire because that goes 
without saying, but under real and terrible pain. 
Whether they had lost one leg or two, whether they 
would perhaps never see again, the smile was al- 
ways there for me and my little jokes. I used to 
start by saying when I entered a ward, " Is there 
anyone in great pain here, because if there is I 
won't sing, as I don't want them to blame it on my 
voice," and in the three weeks that I worked there 
every day, I never had one of them admit that he 
was in " great pain." I shall try to write briefly 
some of the little sayings of the boys, but before I 
do I want to say that I thought I had seen badly 
wounded men during my hospital work before, but 
I have never seen boys " shot to pieces " like those 
boys were. They had been really almost too brave. 
I said to one boy who was so swathed in band- 
ages that all I could see was one very nice blue 
eye and the corner of one very strong American 
mouth, " Well, old dear, you certainly got yours, 
didn't you?" He said, "Yes, I did, but the last 
time I seen the Germans they was running up a 
hill." 

I went into a ward where a poor fellow was just 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 83 

coming out of ether. A very good-looking Irish- 
man. He came to sufficiently to hear me start one 
of my best stories in this fashion : " An Irishman 

was taken prisoner by the Germans " At that 

he sat bolt upright in bed and, glaring at me, said : 
" That's a blankety-blank-blank lie. No Irishman 
was ever taken prisoner by those blankety-blank 
Germans.'' I won't say I have never heard such 
language, but it certainly was not what I call polite 
hospital chatter. Of course the other fellows all 
yelled at him to shut up, and I started again — in 
fact I started four times — but he won. So I 
changed and told one on an English Tommy, which 
soothed him, he being an Irishman. 

Certainly variety is the spice of the American 
Army. I found every nationality and lots of them 
not speaking English. How they ever understood 
commands I can't fathom, but one thing was obvi- 
ous — ^they did not need to be told to advance^ and 
retreat is a word unknown. 

One day I found an Italian trying to make his 
nurse understand that he wanted an orange. I 
have always wondered why I took up that lan- 
guage; I thought it was because of a handsome dark- 
eyed Latin I had met and could not talk to — but 
now I know it was to talk to that dying boy, Tony, 
that I spent hours saying '^ lo saro — tu sarai — egli 
Sara — noi saremo, etc." I got the orange for him 
and we became such good friends that when a day 



84 THE BIG SHOW 

came and the nurse told me that Tony had gone 
to a land of eternal Italian blue skies, I shirked my 
duty and did not sing any more that day. 

Of course the wonderful part of it all is that for 
one Tony who can't go on with the struggle, twenty 
Jacks, Dicks and Bills get well and come home to 
hold their families spellbound by tales of when they 
were at Chateau-Thierry, and so on. More wonder- 
ful still the contempt of the strong for the weak. 
I went into one of my favorite wards one lovely 
sunny day. The boys were all smiling, but over in 
one corner was a bed with a screen around it which, 
meant that one of our brave boys was " going west." 
I said "Hello!-' and then told the boys that I 
would not sing to them that day on account of the 
boy with the screen. They grumbled a bit and I 
left ; the next day when I went the screen was gone 
and I was greeted with yells of delight. I'm sure 
they were sorry he was gone, but to them, in their 
youth and enthusiasm, death is only part of the 
game — so we carried on! 

In that same ward one of the boys had lost his 
left }eg — and while I was singing he kept laughing 
quietly to himself. So I said, " I know my voice is 
funny, but I don't think it's very ^ matey ' of you 
to laugh like that." He said, very apologetically, 
" I'm so sorry. Miss Janis, but my foot that's gone 
tickles so and I can't scratch it. Do forgive me." 

In two weeks he was flying around the place on 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 85 

crutches flirting with all the pretty nurses and very 
cheery because he had tried on his new leg and it 
was a wonder. 

Another boy had lost an eye and had a patch over 
it. I asked if he was going to get a new eye. He 
said he was waiting until he could get a bloodshot 
one to match his regular " lamp.'- 

There were lots of French wounded in the hos- 
pital and they are just like little children. Our 
boys take everything for granted, and ask for what 
they want if you don't happen to have it, which is 
of course very American, but to the French a 
" Good-morning " spoken in their native tongue is 
enough to make them nearly weep for joy. I used 
to sing them our popular American songs which I 
had translated into French. The favorite was " I 
don't want to get well " which I am going to write 
down in case anyone would like to try it on their 
Berlitz Method. Voild! 

Je ne veux pas guerir, 

Je ne veux pas guerir, 

Car j'adore ma jolie infirm^re. 

Chaque matin, chaque midi et chaque soir, 

Elle m'apporte ma medecine et un peu d'espoir. 

Je ne veux pas guerir, 

Je ne veux pas guerir, 

Heureusement que je suis c^libataire. 

Le docteiir dit il crains pour ma condition. 

Mais, grace k Dieu, 



86 THE BIG SHOW 

J'ai encore de I'aiubKion. 
Je ne veiix pas gu6rir, 
Je ne veiix pas gn^rir, 
Car j 'adore ma jolie infirnl^re. 

The French boys all learned it, and as soon as I 
would enter their ward would start to sing it in 
chorus. One of the most amusing sights in a hos- 
pital in France is to see regular " roughneck " 
Americans sitting up in bed, making baskets, knit- 
ting, and even doing embroidery to pass the time 

away. 

There was a very dressy and serious-minded 
nurse in one ward who rather resented my exist- 
ence. I didn't know of hers until one day when I 
went in, and over in a corner was one boy in great 
pain. I started leaping about as usual and she 
came up to me saying, " Do be a little careful ; poor 
John (pointing to the sulTerer) is in great pain, 
and you might jar him." Whereui)on said eTohn 
lifted his aching head and spoke as follows: " Aw! 
leave her alone — she is the first real live thing I've 
seen since I hit this joint — go to it, Elsie " — and I 
went to it. Exit Queen Nurse, peevisldy. 

The boys asked me to sing everything from *^ An- 
nie Laurie " to the " Strutters' Ball," and fortu- 
nately having a good memory I could usnally make 
good, but one day I was very nearly sunk. A very 
good-looking boy from New Orleans who was very 
badly wounded asked me if I could sing " Poor But- 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 87 

terfly.'' I never had sung the song in my life, and I 
venture to say I stand alone in that. So I tried 
to put him off by saying it was a very sad song, and 
he said it meant so much to him. 

Memories of home. So I told the other fellows to 
be brave, and I started, not knowing what I was 
going to sing. It was as if an angel from Heaven 
had prompted me, for the words came that I never 
realized I knew. He was very grateful and smiled. 
Twenty minutes later as I was leaving he had his 
nurse lift him up and he waved feebly and said, 
" Good-by, poor Butterfly ! " An hour later he 
" went west," and I am still thanking that angel 
who made it possible for me to grant his request. 

To the American soldier, a shave is one of the 
most important orders of the day — and in the hos- 
pital it's rather difficult with hundreds of them 
wanting the same thing at once. So Mother got 
some safety razors and gave one to each ward. In 
my palmiest days as the only girl amusing hundreds 
of soldiers, I was never more popular than any 
one of those razors. The boys absolutely fought 
for them, and it was too sweet to see how they 
would doll up, as they expressed it, before I came; 
in fact the only real grumbling I ever heard was 
not from the fellow with an arm, leg or eye gone, 
but from the one with a three or four days' growth 
of beard — and among the very badly wounded the 
only plea was, Will I be able to get back and get 



88 THE RIO STTOW 

even? Those throe weeks were about the happiest 
of my life. I got to know the boys so well — made 
many real friends and lost a few. It got so the 
boys would promiKse the nurses not to make a fuss 
when they had their wounds dressed if she would 
promise t^) bring Elsie in. 

I sang sometimes in as many as fifteen Avards in 
a day. I usually had a good cry when I got home, 
but my reward was in the faet (hat the boys wanted 
nu^ — and it was with rather a heavy heart that I 
left them to go baek lo the Front — for it was rather 
uphill work spurring our boys on after I had seen 
the results of a victorious battle. 

All the time I had been going to Neuilly the 
Y.M.C.A. had been trying to get a motor pass for 
us, and without much success as it turned out — but 
finally they came and said that everything was in 
order aiul we were to start for Chaumont. We 
were very ])leased and we started — but we did not 
finish! We left Paris after a very good lunch, on 
what seemed to be a lovely spring day, but turned 
out to be very muddy. They gave us our ideutilica- 
tion books, which we never thought of examining, 
and explained that Frank our driver could not 
drive because he had no permit, but he was to go 
along and take the car over once we were safely 
out of Paris. We were in a T\('^nault — driven by 
a rather ancient Frem-hman, who had all that was 
needed in the way of passes, etc., with Frank seated 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 89 

beside liiin, all i-eadj to leap into the driver's seat 
when the All Clear signal was given. Motlier, Hill 
the music man, and myself were seated eomt'ortably 
in the limousine trying to forgive it for having no 
springs. We had been told it was the ear that 
E. 11. Solhern had used, so we told ourselves that 
if he could stand the bumps we could. We got lost 
going out of Paris — a thing we had never yet failed 
to do, either going out or coming in, but we iinally 
got under v/ay and it looked like Chaumont for a 
late dinner. Alas! it only looked like it, and it 
turned out that we were all wearing rose-colored 
glasses. 

At tea time we eased into a town called Provins — 
how should we know that said Provins was the 
Quariicr General MUiiairef! There were at least 
four other roads to Chaumont — but we went via 
Provins. I was sitting well back in my corner 
quite at peace with the world, when all at once I 
saw a barrier ratln^r like those Pennsylvania toll- 
gates — across the road — and a very warlike person 
with tin hat, bayonet fixed, and all the other props 
of war who held up a very firm brown hand and we 
stopped. I tried to look as if it meant nothing in 
my life, and sat even further back in my corner — 
trying not to look like a woman ... it being 
^^ di'jendu " to be a woman and in an automobile at 
the same time. 

He examined the French driver's papers, and 



90 THE BIG SHOW 

said ^^ Bien! " We sighed sighs of relief in three 
different keys and prepared to move on, but no! 
he came to the door and said in the sweetest of 

French tones: "And these ladies ???! Their 

papers." 

" Oh yes, certainly/' said I, while Mother fumbled 
in her bag for them. I tried to make conrersation 
with the gentleman, but his eyes were on Mother's 
bag. Even then I was quite calm. 

Out came the Carnet d'etranger — little red-books 
— that look like nothing, but really keep you from 
spending most of your spare time in jail. 

Mother handed them out with a sort of " Poor 
snoopy boob " expression, and we all sat back. He 
looked at them and said : " Ah ! just as I thought." 

About this time I began to think about how much 
I really loved Paris, so I said, " If everything is not 
in order we Tvill go back to Paris." 

" Ah, no, madam," said the w^arlike one, " that 
you cannot do. You must come to Headquarters 
right now — you are found traveling in a motor 
without permission and are liable to arrest." I 
said, " But our books are in order," and then the 
blow fell. " Decidedly not," he said. "^^ Regardez! ^' 

I looked at the books and saw" ^' Ces dames sonts 
permis d'aller jusque Chaumont par chemin de fer 
ou a pied.'' (These ladies are permitted to go as 
far as Chaumont by railroad or on foot.) 

A nice little eighty-mile walk appealed to me 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 91 

strongly at that moment. Well, there was no argu- 
ment. The Young Christians had thought they 
could put something over on the French authorities 
— but they will have to sit up all night let alone 
get up early before that happens. 

We went to the ^^ gare/^ where a crowd of vil- 
L gathered around us. I must say I never 

felt moje dangerously important. I began to feel 
like the spy who was condemned to be shot at sun- 
rise and said, " But I never get up till ten." 

After waiting about half an hour, while the 
French driver went in to explain things, in his 
own sweet way, by saying that he knew nothing 
about us, he had been ordered to drive us to Chau- 
mont and he was doing it, he finally came back with 
what we gleaned was the Boss of Provins. He had 
one of those French ostermoor face-fittings that are 
only used in America to get a laugh when the show 
is dragging, but in France are used in the best 
families. I think to hide the neckties that the wife 
gives them for Christmas ; but above the edge were 
shining two of the most snappishly human blue 
eyes mine ever met. Hope revived ! So I took the 
center of the stage — he was quite firmly charming, 
and informed me that the driver and the car were 
to go to Chaumont — the two gentlemen could go 
to Chaumont by train — as their passes read — or 
return to Paris — hut the ladies were to — return to 
Paris at once. The train would leave in two hours 



92 THE BIG SHOW 

and that the ladies were very lucky to be allowed to 
go, as they really should go to the local Sing Sing. 
It was decided that all the culprits would return to 
Paris, but in the meantime the French would cer- 
tainly have to answer to the U. S. Army, two thou- 
sand of which were waiting in Chaumont to be 
sung to by the "super spy," Mile. Elsie Janis! It 
was all very funny, but on the other hand rather 
tragic. We had eight bags, rugs, cushions and 
other " spy-like " props. The French driver was 
made to put them all out as if they had the measles 
and beat it to Chaumont. 

By this time the villagers were all but taking our 
coat buttons for souvenirs. We were shown a 
little hostel across the way by the bearded blue-eyed 
wonder, where we could dine. We did and ate some 
nice well-meaning horse^ camouflaged as a steak. 
When it came near train time the police came for 
us and we were escorted to the comic train by them, 
put into a caiTiage, our bags piled in on top of us 
and handed our various papers. On every one was 
written " Found in an automobile without permis- 
sion ■ ' and everything else on them canceled. I 
made a speech from the carriage door to the Boss of 
Provins and all his staff, telling them that I did not 
blame them but that inside of two weeks we would 
come back to Provins Tvith a blue passe — just to 
prove we had not been shot at sunrise or any other 
time. We pulled out and left them standing with 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 93 

" What a pity — so young and yet so false " expres- 
sion lurking under their beards and to add insult to 
injury they all yelled ^^ Bonne chance! " 

I suppose they meant they hoped death would be 
instantaneous. I've never met such a weak-minded 
train. Its idea was to go to Paris, but it stopped 
for advice every five minutes and after about an 
hour of uncertainty stopped for good and decided 
not to go at all. A guard yelled "^^ Changez pour 
Paris! '^ so out we had to bundle with all the bags, 
rugs — and dog, for whom we had been forced to buy 
a first-class ticket. We got on a " leave " train full 
of undoubtedly the bravest but absolutely the dirti- 
est soldiers I ever saw. It took us four hours to 
do in that imitation train what it had taken us 
fifty-seven minutes to do in our illicit automobile. 

We arrived in Paris just in time to hear the 
sirens announcing what turned out to be about the 
worst raid we ever had, but death had no terrors 
for us after Provins. So w^e went to the hotel. On 
arrival Mother and I were both just about two 
inches away from hysterics. We have been arrested 
several times for speeding in America, but that 
was in peace-time. Even then I never craved it as 
a pastime, but take it from one who knows being 
arreeted in France — in war-time — by people who 
though they are charming give no clue by their ges- 
tures or intonations whether they are going to kill 
you or kiss you — is an experience that I would not 



94 THE BIG SHOW 

even wish on the Kaiser. I have been known to 
wish they would hang him, but then hanging is so 
nice and speedy. 

We crawled into bed that night vowing all sorts 
of vows to be revenged on the Young Christians 
come what might, but I evidently got off the track, 
for I dreamed that I was a real spy and had lured 
the Crown Prince of Germany to supper with me. 
I was to fascinate him and then stab him with the 
butter knife — but he walked into the room and 
going directly to the table removed all the cutlery ; 
he had evidently read that book, too! 

The next morning the Y.M.C.A. called up to say 
that they were so sorry — it had all been a mis- 
understanding. We knew that, but we felt we were 
more misunderstood than misunderstanding, and 
agreed to call off our feud with the Y.M.C.A. 
and pick on our allies, the French — not because 
we did not like them but because we did not like 
their not liking us. So we decided to tell our 
troubles to a policeman and told them to the 
one who had some force under him, our Boss Gen- 
eral, who from that time took us under his very 
splendid American eagle wings and made the rest 
of our stay in France one long winding French 
road of roses. 



NEUILLY AND OUR BOYS 95 



BLIND * 

" Blind I and these poor old eyes of mine 

That never missed a thing 

Have done their bit 

And never again will feel 

That sudden sting 

That comes from holding back a tear 

Or reading a bit too much. 

Well, at least they left me one thing 

A d n good sense of touch. 

" Blind ! and these poor old eyes of mine 
That some folk said were blue — and others 

green — 
You're finished — that's the end of you, 
And never again will you declare a coat is 

badly cut. 
We will just be sure that it feels OK 
And keep our old mouth shut. 
Blind ! well of course it's rotten 
And it's going to be hard as hell 
To meet a pal 

And not be able to say he's looking well. 
But then again there is one thing — 
I shall never know the pain 
Of being embarrassed and murmuring 
' Bv Jove! it looks like rain.' 



* Having been two years over there, and singing nearly every 
day for wounded in England and meeting many blinded in this 
war, I write this. It is typical of the men I've met. 



96 THE BIG SHOW 

"Blind! The man who has lost his arms 

Says, ^ Thank God, I have my eyes I' 

But this one reaches out in the dark 

And touching her hand cries, 

^ As long as those fingers cling to mine 

As long as I feel the pain 

When they leave, and the joy when they come, 

I shall not complain.' 

My love is now unending, for I shall always see 

Her face as it looked by the garden gate when 

she said good-by to me. 
I shall not know when she's fading, 
Her voice will be ever of gold. 
Her hair will be soft — like new-spun silk; 
I shall never know her old 
As long as she stands beside me 
Not weeping — ^laughing instead. 
As long as my lips can find her own. 
Thank God! I am blind and not dead!" 



CHAPTER VI 

We Join the A.E.F. and Meet the Boss 

OF Same 

A FTER being virtually spanked and sent home 
/-\ by the French military authorities, one 
would think we might have been a bit sub- 
dued. I must say Mother's ardor was absolutely 
drenched, but I felt more warlike than ever, and 
decided to start a first-class offensive all on my 
own. So w^hile the Y.M.C.A. were busy trying to 
wring apologies from the French officials, I put up 
my barrage in the form of a telegram to G.H.Q., ad- 
dressed to Colonel C, the Boss General's aide, who 
had been very nice to us at Chaumont and who had 
spoken in glowing terms of my work for the boys. 
I sent the following telegram : " If you consider my 
work for the soldiers of any value, will you please 
tell the French military authorities — we cannot get 
motor pass. Have got the car, driver and gasoline, 
and still cannot move. Elsie Janis." 

The next day when we came back from a visit 
to the hospital, we found a U. S. Army sergeant 
waiting for us. He presented us with an American 
Army movement order — just like regular soldiers 

97 



98 THE BIG SHOW 

have and a telegram saying that everything would 
be done to facilitate our getting to Chaumont, 
where the boys were anxiously awaiting my return. 
Perhaps I did not feel important, but it's more 
likely that I felt rather too large for our apart- 
ment and could not have made any one of my hats 
go on my head. The pass read we were to move 
either by motor or train, and just as I was rehears- 
ing in my mind what I would say to the Bearded 
Boss of Provins when we sailed through his domain, 
the telephone rang and Miss Janis was wanted by 
American Headquarters. By this time my chest 
was out so far it was difficult to talk over the 
'phone, but I managed to hear from Colonel C. that 
they had a G.H.Q. car for our use, that they would 
send it for us if we so desired, or if we cared to 
come up by train it would meet us. After Provins 
and various other vain attempts to leave Paris by 
motor, a train looked very good to us — at least 
trains can't be told to turn around and go home. 
So we said we would leave next morning, and we 
did — and said farewell to our chauffeur and the 
Young Christian Packard at the station and got on 
the train with the entire French Army. I never 
saw so many medals in my life. The train left at 
eight a.m. and the sun looked rather dazzled by 
those shining medals. The train was carrying just 
twice as many people as it could seat, and there 
was only one other woman on it besides Mother 



WE JOIN THE A.E.P. 99 

and myself. The corridors were full of charming 
bright-eyed officers, standing from Paris to Chau- 
mont, four hours and a half. That is my idea of 
war such as Sherman never saw. I never can eat 
at eight in the morning — my inner-man does not 
come to until ten, so with great forethought we 
reserved places for the first service of lunch at 
eleven. 

If I had ever had any doubts about the French 
as fighters they would have been dispelled by that 
first big advance on the " wagon restaurant." We 
were among the first " over the top," as by eleven 
my inner-man was wide awake and ready for the 
attack. 

Two heavily be-medaled officers occupied and 
helped us to hold our position against all attacks. 
One of the strangest things about Anglo-Saxons in 
a strange land is that they nearly always think that 
they are the only ones in that land intelligent 
enough to speak two or three different languages 
and immediately begin to talk about our neigh- 
bors in English. Mother and I were just about to 
do it, when one of the medal swingers leaned over 
and said in about the most perfect English I've 
ever heard — " Pardon me, but are you not Miss 
Elsie Janis? " 

A thrill ran right up my back and buttoned 
around my neck. I thought we were ^^ pinched " 
again. I was just about to reply in French that 



100 THE BIG SHOW 

I did not speak English, when Mother, with no 
sense of shame and apparently ready to die game, 
said, ^^ Yes I This is Miss Janis." 

" Ah ! " said he. " I thought I could not be mis- 
taken. The last time I saw you (I trembled and 
wondered if it could be the man from Provins 
without the comic face-fitting) was at the Century 
Theater, New York.'' 

Mother and I sighed in a perfect harmony of 
relief, and ordered a bottle of vin rouge on the 
strength of the fact that the Century was all he 
had against us. We chatted through lunch and 
then said An revoir. War certainly has killed con- 
ventions. 

Mother and I picked up acquaintances all over 
the place, and I don't ever expect to stop doing it. 
Why shouldn't we speak to people if we like their 
looks? Life is so short and we might never see 
them again. I w^ent out one day in a little town in 
France to buy Mother a birthday present. An 
American soldier on a motor bike with a side-car 
came along beside me, and in his best Army French 
said, ^^ Botin joucr, Mademoiselle /^ and pointing to 
the side-car — ^^ Voulez-vous allez? ^^ — and I said, 
"Where did you get that stuff? I'm American.'' 

No whiz-bang ever gave him a shock compared to 
that one. His mouth literally fell open as I con- 
tinued, " My name is Janis — Elsie Janis." 

He looked blank, and then said, " Oh, I don't 




OOR MINNE LETOURRR: LOOK AT HER NOW AND BEFORE TOE YANKS CAME!" 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 101 

care what your name is, but please excuse me. I 
thought you was French." 

I thanked him for the compliment and said I 
was sorry I could not go riding. He saluted as if 
I had been a General and rode away, but I simply 
loved it, and I can't help wondering if some day 
w^hen we are both old he won't tell his grand- 
children of the day he " picked up Elsie Janis the 
actress on the streets of N. in the great War." 

Maybe by that time he will have heard the name. 
That's the only " pick up " I ever slipped over on 
Mother. She is really a much better picker than I 
am. All this is irrelevant, but forgive me, I do so 
enjoy living over every minute that I write, that 
my Waterman " ad libs " a bit now and then. 

To get back to our ^^ moutons/' We arrived at 
Chaumont at one. We were met at the station by a 
great big khaki-colored Cadillac eight — and an 
officer who took us to the hotel. 

This time there was no doubt about our impor- 
tance in the eyes of the hotel personnel. Before, 
when we were in Chaumont, I think they thought 
we were sort of traveling minstrels — who were 
ambitious and by way of taking it out on the poor 
soldiers, but this time we arrived in an Army car 
with a Headquarters sign on its front and back. 
They could not miss it, and so they practically 
carried us in and up to our rooms — this time on 
the first floor, but also on the courtyard where every 



102 THE BIG SHOW 

morning at six the French waitresses put np a 
creeping barrage of light French conversation that 
made any air raid sound like an old-fashioned 
lullaby. 

In the afternoon Colonel C. and Colonel M. C. C. 
came to see us, and say that everything was going 
to be very easy for us from then on. That we were 
to dine with some of the Boss General's staff and 
then the Boss himself would like us to come out to 
see him in the evening. 

I have met Kings, Queens, Princes, Presidents, 
artists, burglars and theatrical managers without 
a tremor, but I must say I was rather sort of — well 
■ — a kind of in a way a trifle — more or less — oh, well ! 
what's the use I was scared stiff ! I don't remember 
dinner at all, but I do remember that on the w^ay 
out to the General's chateau (Oh yes! even he had 
one) I kept thinking — " Just suppose he don't like 
me — he could just bat one eyelash and we would 
return to Paris and perhaps America ^ a pied ^ as 
the French said we could do, as far as they were 
concerned." 

I have always liked our General's looks and have 
loved that strong " take it or leave it " expression 
of his, but until I talked to him I did not realize 
what it was that made all his men feel as they did 
about him. They did not fear him, and they did 
not love him, in the soft sort of way one loves peo- 
ple who are older and have done great things. He 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 103 

has — and is — their boss " Black Jack " — and they 
are for him — from the training camp where they 
learn to hold a gun to the hospital where perhaps 
they learn that they will never hold another. When 
we went in he called me " Elsie " and said, " I sup- 
pose I may be allowed to do that, as all the men 
do.'' 

I wanted to say, " Call me anything you like. 
Jack, I will come at top speed," but I only said 
" Oh yes, sir." 

Then someone suggested that I should sing him 
a song as he had been away when I trouped in 
Chaumont and had to leave again next day for 
some front. I hated the idea and felt very much like 
I felt when as " Little Elsie " Mother had me do my 
imitations in a well-known manager's office, but I 
told a story and the lid was off. Mother had to 
stop me — I was so carried away by that big man's 
laugh I could have gone on forever. When I had 
finished, he said, " Elsie, when you first came to 
France someone said you were more valuable than 
a whole regiment — then someone raised it to a 
division, but I want to tell you that if you can give 
our men this sort of happiness you are worth an 
Army Corps." 

I said, " Well, General, you ought to know your 
own Army." 

Before we left he told me that I was to go any- 
where that I wanted to where there were American 



104 THE BIG snow 

troops. I don't expect to ever feel as proud again. 
I don't know that I ever want to — I would prefer to 
keep that one time stored in my memory box. 

I arrived home with a snug comfy feeling in my 
heart. I had passed my exams and had made good. 
I was a regular soldier and my day was complete. 

I've neglected to say that I did manage to see 
the cliateau as we were leaving. I was too nervous 
to do so when we were arriving. It was a lovely 
place, and the one thing that sticks in my rather 
hazy impression of it all was the fact that grazing 
all over the meadows around the chateau w^ere 
crowds of snow-white cows — I had never seen a 
chorus of snow-white cows before, and I must say 
that in the twilight they looked absolutely naked 
and unashamed — a flock of bovine September 
Morns — chewing as unconcernedly as if there was- 
n't a war on — but now that I think of it from my 
slight acquaintance with cows they can't have any 
sense of shame or they would not stand for lots 
of thincjs that thev do stand for. 

For the next ten days we made Chaumont our 
headquarters, and from tliere we dashed all over 
the country to camps sometimes as far as two hun- 
dred kilometers away — places where there was no 
accommodation for ladies or actresses. 

So we always came back to the Hotel de France 
and the chatty waitresses. I did not get much 
sleep, but I had a grand time. We had a regular 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 105 

soldier for a driver and officer in charge who gave 
us a tone, and was veiy attractive at the same time. 
I called him my aide because I had never had an 
aide before. I think I will get one after the War. 
There will be a lot of good-looking aides looking 
for some one to aid, Fm thinking. 

It was very amusing to see the soldiers along the 
roads. When they saw the Headquarters car com- 
ing, they would stand at attention and salute — then 
as we passed them they would see who it was and 
the very stiff salute would change into a most in- 
formal wave of the hand. By that time they had all 
heard that we were in that neighborhood, and every- 
where I went the boys would yell, " Hello, Elsie, 
give us a show." 

Many a time we stopped where some of them 
were working on railroads or building camp huts 
and I told them some stories. Here is one I 
picked up. 

An American machine gunner having fired about 
five rounds stood up, stretched himself and yelled 
over to the German lines, " Now, Mr. Kaiser, count 
your men." 

For details of my one-night stands around Chau- 
mont, I will quote my old reliable friend Diary ! 

Saturday. 
Lunched at hotel. Went out to the hospital, 
gave shows in eight wards and one in the big hut. 



106 THE BIG SHOW 

Went to see Colonel H., who is laid np out there. 
He says his colored soldiers have done very well 

* *■■■ 

and lots of them haye been giyen the Croix de 
Guerre by the French, who think they are splendid. 

Picked up a good story about them. 

A big brown buck private was out in a shell hole 
carefully covering up three very dead Germans, 
having removed everything that would come off. 
He is crooning as he works and singing " You 
shall be free, oh, Mona — you shall be free.'^ A 
Captain yells at him, *' Hey there, Mose, stop 
that singing, the Germans will hear you and they 
will come over." Mose yells back, " Dey been over, 
Captain, and dey done gone home. — You shall be 
free, etc." 

Came home to dinner — changed and went to 
Headquarters, an enormous enclosed square with 
buildings all around it. Gave the show in the 
middle of the square on a big motor truck — all 
decorated with flags — about two thousand men. 
It was very windy, and my pleated skirt started 
doing a splendid imitation of a Handley-Page tak- 
ing off. I banked and fell into a vrille to the back 
of the truck and put on a lot of ballast in the shape 
of a good old-fashioned safety pin fastened firmly 
between my not too unshapely but decidedly thin 
^^ twigs." 

The boys were so nice about it — in fact every 
day over here I am convinced that the American 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 107 

soldier's attitude towards women is one of the most 
glorious things in the war. 

Stopped at the officers' Y.M.C.A. club on the 
way home — a charming place with charming women 
doing everything in their power to make it like 
home. Some day someone with the powers of de- 
scription of Hugo, Balzac, Dickens and a few others 
will try to describe the splendid work done by the 
Y.M.C.A. 

Czar of Russia assassinated. 

Very tired tonight — not the Czar — myself. 

Sunday. 

Left Chaumont at eleven — went to Neufchateau 
to lunch with some officers in a charming old 
French house — an old Frenchwoman keeps house 
for them who was two years in a French town 
taken by the Germans; she can put more feeling 
into these tw^o words ^^ sale hoche ^^ than anyone 
I've met so far. 

Went on to Bazoilles — Johns Hopkins Hospital 
— a return engagement. 

They have a full house now and are rushed to 
death. 

Sang in seven w^ards — and gave one show in the 
Y. hut. Dashed back to Neufchateau — had dinner 
and gave a show there also in Y. hut. Otto K., dis- 
tinguished visitor from America, was there — also 
F. P. A. of New York Tribune fame. 



108 THE BIG SHOW 

Mr. K. said he liked me better in the work I am 
doing than anything I have ever done. I was 
pleased. Think when we get home I will try to 
start another war just to show the folks what kind 
of a war actress I am. 

Came back to Chaumont and a hot bath — I'm 
sure the French must think the tw:o best things we 
Americans do are taking baths and collecting sou- 
venirs. 

Some Allied soldiers who were discussing what 
the different countries were fighting for summed it 
up in this way : 

England for the Sea, 

France for Alsace-Lorraine, 

Italy for Trieste, 
and the Americans for souvenirs. 

So far we've not met a doughboy who didn't 
have a German helmet. It's nice to think there are 
so many German dead heads about. 

Monday. 

Lunched here and then started for Gondrecourt 
— arrived at four-thirty and found I was scheduled 
for three-thirt3^ Most of the fellows had given me 
up, but we blew bugles and soon had about fifteen 
hundred of them back on the job. 

Dined with the Colonel and then went on to 
Houdelaincourt for one show and Dainville for an- 
other. The latter in a boxing ring. If I keep on 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 109 

playing in rings and getting used to four-sided 
audiences I shall not be satisfied in America with 
anything less than Madison Square Garden to play 
in — and Jess Willard had better look out. 

Got lost coming home, and after riding at about 
Mty kilos an hour for an hour found we were on 
the road to Toul, absolutely the opposite direction 
from Chaumont. 

Got home finally at 2 a.m. all in. 

Tuesdai/. 

Left Chaumont at twelve for Langres, where they 
have a law that no American soldier can get any- 
thing to eat after one-thirty. Past experiences have 
taught us that the word "Why?" with point of 
interrogation is not being used, so we ordered lunch 
while Lieutenant W. hustled over to the Provost 
Marshall and got a permit to eat. 

Went to the largest supply base in France — 
Is-sur-Tille — again I don't know why it's Is-sur- 
Tille — because I did not see said River Til, but I 
did see five thousand engineers, and hear them. 
There were at least a thousand vrho could not 
get in. 

I was furious, but could not give another show, 
as I was booked further along the road at Dijon, 
where I had disappointed them once before. So 
had to go. 

The show at Dijon was at the hospital, where I 



110 THE BIG SHOW 

found lots of boys I had seen up in the Toul Sec- 
tor. Mr. C, head of the Y.M.C.A., was there, and 
on our way home we came up behind his big open 
Young Christian Packard, which was kicking up 
more dust than any Christian car should kick up. 

So after a short but sweet argument as to who 
owned the road, we breezed by and gave him some 
of the thickest A.E.F. Cadillac dust that ever flew. 

I like Mr. C, he is a charming man — but dust is 
dust — and a Cadillac eight is a Cadillac eight. 

We came back to Chaumont in two hours — one 
hundred and two kilometers. 

Bill the music man stayed in Dijon for the night, 
so Mother and I were alone — shaking about in the 
back of the car. We held hands and sang ^^ Where 
do we go from here. Boys? " 

Wednesday. Pans, 
Bill missed his train from Dijon and my throat 
is very bad, so we put off a show that we were to 
give at Chatillon en route, and came direct to Paris. 
The American Ambulance are giving a show here 
for our boys tomorrow, and Headquarters said I 
should be here, so we left Chaumont at two — 
stopped at a place called Montereau for gas — had 
to get an order for it from the Mayor — waited three 
hours and then I think the French made a mistake 
and put in Vin Rouge, for when we finally got 
started the car went about ten miles — ^just far 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. Ill 

enough to be well away from everything, and after 
spitting, spluttering and coughing for about a mile 
died on us. We coaxed it, pleaded with it, and even 
pushed it, finally started it and did that seven times 
between Montereau and Paris. 

We finally arrived in five hours absolutely worn 
out. 

And this was to be a day of rest. 

Did I say yesterday a Cadillac eight is a Cadil- 
lac eight? Well, today I say a Cadillac eight is 
just like any other " jitney " when she is given 
water with her gaooline. 

Paris. The Fourth of July. 

The French people certainly know the real mean- 
ing of the word " Fete " and they certainly proved 
it today. 

The papers came out this morning with the an- 
nouncement that there are one million Americans 
in France and five more millions to come if 
needed. A very good start for an American fete- 
day. 

Flags everywhere — people all over the streets — 
aeroplanes all over the air and flying right over the 
roofs of the houses. I was washing my hair this 
morning and I thought one of the aviators was 
coming in to dry it for me — he certainly passed 
by the window. 

To see this laughing, screaming mob — it seems 



112 THE BIG SHOW 

almost impossible, and loss than a month ai^o we 
were called to the 'phone early one morning and 
asked where we intended to go if the (un-mans came 
to Paris! And that night we stood on our bal- 
cony and conld plainly see the flaming of the big 
iruns in the skv and hear their roar. Yet today 
people are lining the streets, cheering the shock 
troops — American, British, b'rench and others who 
stopped them. Those gray beasts all dressed up in 
new uniforms for their trip to Paris. Surely the 
tide has turned and the millions of prayers haye 
at last been heard. 

All the war news is wonderful — the Boche is at 
Chateau-Thierry today — and he could shell Paris 
from there, in fact eyeryone has exptx^ted some nice 
little ** Hun hate '' to help n>ake the day complett^ — 
but no I the Dun is too busy watching the tan and 
blue figures in front of them. They, too, are ex- 
pecting something. 

We lunched yery gayly at Ambassadeurs — then 
went to the hospital and said '* Happy Fourth of 
July I " — came home and dressed for the biijr show 
at Gaumont Palace. There were seyen thousand 
people there — mostly soldiers — all kinds — but all 
with one idea: *' T'l'rc rAnicriquvl '' 

Twenty-fiye hundred American and French 
wounded. I dressed all up like a real show actress, 
bare back and eyery thing. When I slipped out on 
that enormous stage, my blue silk knees shook, but 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 113 

when those boys liegan to yell I felt so Horry for 
the French people present that I forgot my own 
troubles. I assure you the French clung to their 
chairs in sheer panic. How could they know that 
" Atta boy ! '' " Oh, you, Elsie! " " Let's go, Elsie I " 
" Three chfK^rs for Elsie of the A.E.F. I " and a few 
other wild sentences from all parts of the house 
could possibly mean that the Americans were 
pleased — and their whistles of every variety and in 
all keys which is the greatest sign of displeasure 
with a French audience! I could see them glancing 
furtively at the exits, wondering if it would be 
better to die seated in a x>lush orchestra seat or be 
walked on in the doorway. 

I just let them yell and loved it, but when I 
finally held up one lily brown hand they stopped 
like one man! I told them that the Boss General 
had said though I was needed by the men up at 
the Front, everything must be done for those brave 
boys who had already been through it and won 
their laurels. Then they started again, but this 
time the French spectators had heard two magic 
words that they understood, and they joined in the 
yells with fervor. The magic words were General 
Pershing. Some " Ojien Sesame " in France, be- 
lieve me. 

I sang about seven songs — some in French — and 
then made them all sing ^^ Over Here." Some 
thrill ! 



114 THE BIG SHOW 

After my "act" some really good performers 
came on — six two-round fights and an exhibition by 
Georges C., champion of Europe. I have never 
thought I would like any man to beat me, but if 
one could do so, and look as angelic all the while 
as said G. C.;, I might think about it. 

It was a wonderful night, and think of the work 
of transporting twenty-five hundred wounded to 
and from that place I Of course if the " Huns " 
had been perfectly sure there were that many 
maimed and helpless there, nothing would have 
prevented them from dropping a few bombs on 
them — but it all went off splendidly, and my idea 
of a fitting celebration for such a day. 

I got a telegram from England asking me to 
come over and give a few shows for our fellows 
over there — they say they can't help it if they are 
not in France. So we will go — but must first con- 
tinue my Chaumont circuit bookings. 

One million Americans in France. Oh dear! 
Uncle Sam, have a heart. They are coming so fast 
I won't be able to see them all. I've never been 
crazy about myself really, but now when I hear that 
this division up at that place wants me — and that 
division at the other place wants me — I honestly 
wish I were twins. 

What would Mother do, I wonder? 



WE JOIN THE A.E.F. 115 



THE MESSAGE 

God looked down from His Great Blue Dome 
Into a dying baby's home, 
Where a mother, weeping, looked on high, 
And cried, "O God! don't let him die''; 
But God said, " Courage, do not cry; 
He is with Me." 

God looked down on a prison cell, 
Where a murderer sat in the throes of hell. 
" O God ! " he cried, "' grant me Your reprieve; 
I have scoffed at You, but now I believe; " 
And God said, ^' Ask, and ye shall receive; 
Relv on Me." 

God looked down on a house of shame; 
He heard a woman call His name. 
"O God!" she cried, "why must I wait? 
Take me from the life I hate." 
And God replied, " It is not too late; 
Come unto Me." 

God looked down from His Heaven again 
On a battlefield of slain, 
Where a priest was standing, cross in hand. 
^' Help them, God," was his demand ; 
And God replied, '' I understand ; 
They are with Me." 

God looked down from His Heaven above 
And said to His children, " I am love"; 
But the War Lords answered, 



IIG TITR BIO snow 

" Love is cheap ; 

>Ye want power, to hold, (o keep; 

What care we it" women weej)?" 

xVnd God replied: 

*' Good. So be it. Go your way, 

But listen well to what I say: 

As you would have, so you unisl pay, and 

thoroughly ; 
But when your mii>hty cities fall, 
When you are beaten one and all, 
And for salvation have to call, 
Come back to .Ale." 



CIIAPTIOK VII 

Wi<: OiVF-: Pkovins and tiik P>ioari)i:i) Onf. zio Hioko 

"iiA! Ha!" 

^T^IIIO rnau who said " K(*v(?nge is sweet" kuew 

I nearly as rriueli about said revenj^e as Sher- 

njan knew al)onf, f)oison f^as and li<|uid fire 

as used in our " srnartc'st " bailies today. H(?venge 

is more than sweet. It is saeeharinely superb. 

When we eanie from Chaumont we dodged 
Provins ( I he sctene of our arrest ])y Ihe f'^reneh rnili' 
taire), as our ('afb'llae was running like an ^^ c'pilep- 
tic " seooter, and making such a row I Ihought we 
would get arrested again and this time for carrying 
eoneeab^l aims or illicit murutions, but after sf)end- 
ing the I'ourlh in Paris, and feeling more; than 
extra independent, we decided tr) return to (Chau- 
mont via Provins, and prove to tlie authorities as 
we said we would that we were not spies. When 
we drew up to the town by the fjraridc route dc 
l*ariH, and b;' the way according to tfie I'rench every 
road tiiat leads to Paris is the f/randc route dc 
Paris — I think they are right, but aside from all 
that, at Provins the barrier which bad taken the 
joy out of our lives was a(!ross the road. The same 

117 



118 THE BIG SHOW 

guard with the lid, etc., approached the car, but 
this time rather " pussy-footedly " — as he had 
learned not to delay big tan cars with U.S.A. on 
them too long — and he knew that when a khaki- 
colored " guy " with a strong " Do you get me, 
Steve? " expression to his chin leaned out and 
and yelled " Ameercann " that it was equivalent 
to ^^ laisser aller/^ which in Yank talk means Let's 
go! 

So he approached and was just about to wave 
us by, when I leaned out and said ^'^ Bonjour; I 
remember you," or words to that effect, and then I 
showed him papers and passes — and passes and 
papers of all colors. He was delighted and abso- 
lutely bowed us through his gate, but wait! the 
big scene was yet to come. We must find the 
" bearded one " and in all our various tones from 
bass to soprano crow over him. We went to the 
station, where I jumped out, ran in and literally 
bearded the lion — in his ^^ gareJ' I am sure he had 
thought I was resting somewhere near Mons. Bolo 
Pacha, and was not glad about it, for his face lit up 
at the sight of me and I've never seen such a smile 
as broke through that hirsute face-trimming of his. 
I led him out to the car and we showed him all 
" them papers " like they do in melodrama. On all 
of them he saw written " by command of General 
Pershing." ^' Ah oui,'' he said. '^ Le General Per- 
shange ^' — and I could not help being pleased over 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! " 119 

the fact that he had heard of General P. even 
though he did pronounce the sacred name with a 
" ge " as in orange. I asked if he would come over 
to the little tavern and have something to drink. 
I should have said gargle, as most of those French 
syrups taste like glycothymoline, but he called it 
something else. ''Ah oui, un aperitif,'' he said. 
Just as the British stop anything from a wedding 
to a war for tea, so the French do for their aperitif. 
It should be called imperative. We drank a lot of 
drinks that reminded one of Barnum and Bailey's, 
and ye good old "pop." Peanuts were sadly 
lacking. 

Of course he said he always felt that we were 
all right. And obviously charming ladies. I 
wanted to say that we had noticed how anxious he 
had been to keep us in Provins two weeks before, 
but the victory was already ours, and we could be 
generous. So we bought him another " tooth- 
wash/' and finally tore ourselves away. He was 
standing on the very spot where he had assisted in 
our arrest, yelling '^ Vivent les Americains ! '' We 
rolled off yelling '' Vive la France! '', but he was 
all alone — and his beard cramped his speed a bit. 

We were five and all beardless — so we won — fini 
la guerre de Provins! 

I could not help regretting that Frank, our own 
chauffeur, w^as not there to share our victory as he 
had shared our disgrace, but he was off with his 



120 THE BIG SHOW 

young Christian Packard driving Burton Holmes 
all over all fronts. The French had no objection to 
B. H. going anywhere he liked, but then you see 
Burton H. has a heard, and that must be a great 
bond of sympathy — if you're not ticklish. 

We went on through to Chaumont that night — 
early to bed — to get a good rest before starting on 
what looked like a rather busy week. I went to 
sleep at once, and dreamed that one of the crowd 
of " onl}'^ men I ever loved " had grown a long 
blond beard, and I was making heroic efforts not 
to laugh when he w^as saying the same things that 
used to thrill me. Oh yes ! decidedly, I am strong 
for a Gillette every time. I think some woman 
thought of that famous line " Safety First '\' ! ! 

Chaumont. Saturday. 
Got up quite early and went to Chatillon. 
Through some blunder they did not expect us to 
lunch — so we w^ent to the little hotel, but the 
dining-room was full and the other half of the 
French army was waiting to relieve those who held 
the position — so we retired. Then we saw an even 
smaller hotel — we went in — but I could hear that 
the dining-room there was also seeing action. We 
w^ere just going to leave when there appeared from 
under somewhere a British Tommj^ — he had evi- 
dently heard the racket made by our faces as they 
fell on the courtyard w^hen we thought we were go- 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! ^' 121 

ing lunchless. Tommy and two other Britishers — 
oue a sergeant (hats off, please!)— were doing 
themselves extremely well in a small private room. 
I can't think why Chatillon has a private room — 
as it has no theater, and in books only actresses go 
to private rooms. However, Tommy said they 
would gladly vacate said room for us. We said 
" Certainly not,'' but if we might join them? Loud 
cries of " Hear, hear ! " from the three of them— 
they were charming. They had seen me in London, 
but still they were charming. I asked them how 
they liked the Americans who were with them at 
their aeroplane supply base — and the sergeant 
spoke as only an English sergeant could speak. 

" Well, miss," he said, " we're quite pleasantly 
surprised in the Americans. We always thought 
they was a sort of * blow'ard ' kind of people — but 
we like 'em fine — and believe me I've got about 
sixty men working over there — but when I want 
something doyie^ and done the same day, I send for 
an American." And he meant it. 

One great thing about the British — I have found 
that though they may at times freeze us, when 
they do warm up it's a nice steady glowing warmth 
and they have not yet learned that very popular 
indoor and outdoor sport at which w^e Americans 
excel — " tossing the bull." I must say the French 
are expert at it. To hear as I have heard an 
American doughboy telling a French poilu how 



122 THE BIG SHOW 

great he (the poilu) is — is something that can only 
be approached by hearing a poilu tell a doughboy 
how he (the doughboy) has saved the situation. 

When you have heard them both — then you know 
that in " tossing the bull '^ those two nationalities — 
American and French — have all others tied — and 
even the Spaniards are looking for a new national 
sport. 

Mother says lots of people won't know what I 
mean by " tossing the bull " — so in case there is 
anyone so young or so old that they have not heard 
the expression, I will give a tiny example. 

When Big Bertha was shelling Paris — an Ameri- 
can w^as talking to a Frenchman, as follows: 

American: Gee! it's wonderful how they can hit 
the heart of Paris. One shell dropped on the Made- 
laine. 

Frenchman: Oh! but, Monsieur, you Americains 
are so wonderful — I am sure you will soon have a 
gun better than Bertha— in fact, all you will ask 
for is an address and the shell will go there ! 

That, oh ! gentle reader, is Bull ! ! ! as tossed a la 
Frangais. 

By the time we had finished lunch, the Entente 
Cordiale was absolutely rampant. 

We agreed that America and England were two 
great countries and ought to get together and that 
it was a pity the Americans were not with the Brit- 
ish more than they were — for when men fight and 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! " 123 

die together they really know one another— and 
I have always found that when an Englishman and 
an American really get to know one another it's a 
splendid friendship. 

After lunch they had to get back on their job 
of building big bombing machines which were to 
put fear into the hearts of the Huns. I went to 
my job, which was tiny by comparison, but I often 
thought if I could put laughter enough into the 
hearts of our boys, I might also be giving a slap 
to the Huns. A smiling enemy is much more dis- 
concerting than a frowning one, because you don't 
quite know whether he is laughing with you or at 
you until you come into some dressing-station. 

At Chatillon I had the usual " merry mob " and 
gave an hour's entertainment, then dashed back to 
Chaumont, changed and went out in the opposite 
direction to a little town called Jonchery, where we 
dined with the officers of a munition school. 

This little camp was charming. Up on the side 
of a hill — all laid out with little duckboard walks, 
leading from one cabin to the other — before dinner 
they took us into the schoolroom, where there was 
a blackboard — desks — benches — only instead of 
teaching children about life and its greatness, they 
teach men about death and its quickness. It is 
hard to imagine so many different kinds of deaths 
done up in so many different little insignificant 
looking packages. Bombs, grenades, guns, bullets^ 



124 THE BIG SHOW 

rockets of every nationality. Those fellows knew 
more about death than any undertaker. They had 
every German hell-raiser in existence, and the coy 
names they had for them I A most harmless look- 
ing hand grenade called " the hair brush " — I sup- 
pose the idea is that once it hits a German he has 
no hair left to brush. Another called the " potato- 
masher '' — Well ! all I have to say is Fm glad I'm 
not a potato or a German! To see those kind, 
smiling Yanks simply gloating over those horrors 
was almost terrible to me. Fellows who at home 
would not use fly-paper because they wouldn't like 
to see the flies struggling — absolutely caressing a 
gas bomb that they knew would kill everything 
within twentv feet. I did not trv to fiorure out 
w^hy or wherefore, because dinner (?) was an- 
nounced — and some dinner! Their passion for 
bombs and grenades had not spoiled their appe- 
tites for chicken and fritters — because they looked 
upon the latter with the same glowing eyes they 
had cast upon the " potato-masher." 

After dinner we rode down to the ^* theater," 
which consisted of two motor trucks up against a 
wall. There were a lot of colored troops there. I 
couldn't help wondering if they were so crazy about 
bombs, etc. 

One of the officers told me a story w^hich is 
apropos. 

A colored soldier on outpost duty, and it gets a 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! " 125 

bit thick. So he comes running back at great speed 
and bumps into an officer, who says, " Hey ! what's 
the idea of leaving your post of duty?" Colored 
soldier says, " Oh Lord, boss — the shells is just 
raining out there. One went right by my nose." 

Officer. " How do you know it was a shell? did 
you see it? " 

Soldier. " Did I see it? I seen it twice — once 
w^hen it passed me — and once w^hen / passed if." 

We had a great time and they gave me a lovely 
bouquet — of poppies, cornflowers and daisies — 
forming the eternal tricolor of France! 

I had only one personal friend in that crowd and 
he could not come — he wrote me a note saying how 
sorry he was! I don't blame him — he was in the 
guardhouse. I wanted to go to see him and sing 
him a song, but they suggested I had better not. It 
seems that the guardhouse is quite an entertain- 
ment in itself. 

Sundai/. 

Went to Bourbonne les Bains. It being Sunday, 
took a rest — only one show. Funny little town — 
very chic watering-place — before the War! The 
Casino used to harbor heavy gamblers — it now does 
the same thing to Young Christians ! 

The batlis used to cure rheumatic Frenchmen — 
they now clean athletic Americans — ah, yes! Bour- 
bonne les Bains has changed. 



126 THE BIG SHOW, 

We went to the little hotel, where we retired to 
rest, but before w^e could make it, down the street 
came the regimental band playing " Over There " 
as if it was not Sunday at all. I gave my show on 
a tiny stage of a tiny theater in the Casino gardens. 
And the entirely family of Bourbonnes were there. 
Really, more French people than Americans. I 
was not particularly pleased because, after being 
so happy up at the front on a table with a crowd 
of grinning doughboys all around me, I rather 
resent the social atmosphere of Bourbonne les 
Bains. However, I did my best and we came back 
to Chaumont. I think what really depressed me 
was that all the Yanks looked so clean — and I must 
admit the dirtier they are the more I love them, 
and the more they love me for loving them enough 
to dance with them, even at the risk of acquiring a 
restless " cootie." 

Tonight went out to say good-by to the Boss 
General, who is always going away. Curses! 

Monday. 
A crowd of wounded arrived today from one of 
those small but sure " pushes " the Yanks are put- 
ting on 'most every day. I went out and worked in 
the wards — gave five short shows — came back — put 
on my other hat by way of kidding myself into a 
change of costume — and went out to a little place 
that sounds much prettier than it looked. La Ville 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! " 127 

au Bois — I did not see the ville or the hois, but I 
did see — and smell — and partake of — a most won- 
derful dinner with the officers of a famous regi- 
ment of engineers who specialize in putting on 
" hours of hate " for the Boche— that is, they travel 
about from sector to sector, and when our people 
want some especially deadly gas these fellows ar- 
rive and put on a Dillingham production of " poison 
gas '' assorted. I must say they did not look like 
death-dealing desperadoes, in the least. An aw- 
fully nice crowd. After dinner we went over to the 
gas school — where our fellows learn the art of 
gas throwing — it was a large camp. And to the 
right and left were comic-looking little cube-like 
gas chambers — where they try the gas. 

My idea of a rotten job is a " gas tester." He 
dresses all up in a gas mask, which in itself is 
always good for a laugh if he don't smother him- 
self trying to get it on — then he thinks one last 
thought of home, mother and the good job he left, 
and steps inside the gas chamber. If he comes 
out alive it's a success for him — but if he don't the 
gas is good enough for the Germans — and they 
get it. 

There were lots of fellows in the audience who 
had been in the gas chamber and came out with 
everything but their voices — still they could laugh. 

After having all different kinds of deadly gas 
tried on you, even my singing might be a relief. 



128 THE BIG SHOW 

As I was leaving, a big Armj car arrived with 
a Colonel and a Major who came up to me and 
said that they had ridden seventy-five miles to beg 
me to come np to their camp — where they were very 
short of entertainment. They came from Colombey- 
les-Belles — an aero-supply station. I said if it was 
worth a seventy-five mile ride to them to ask me to 
go, it was certainly worth the same ride to me — 
so we arranged it. Only six shows today. Very 
slow! 

I am sure that when I go to America a nice little 
movie theater where they start at eleven a.m. and 
finish at eleven p.m. is going to be about my speed. 
Elsie Janis — the human film ! 

Tuesday. 

I have always been quite proud of the fact that I 
come from Ohio — even though I did so when I was 
too young to know a dry State from a wet one. 
Until four years ago we had a home in Columbus — 
which we only saw about once a year — but wiiich 
was quite one of the " sights '' of the city. 

If you wxre pally with a North High Street car 
conductor he might ring the bell in front of El- 
Jan (name suggesting it pays to advertise) and 
whisper to you, " That's the home of Elsie Janis! " 
And if by chance you were just the usual sort of 
person and never had heard of me, you would have 
probaby been put off the car. That's finished now 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! '' 129 

— we have sold the homestead for only about five 
thousand dollars less than it cost — a very good deal 
considering the amount of sentiment connected 
with it — but as I was saying before I lost myself 
in a maze of memories and old home town stuff — 
I have always been proud of this, but tonight I 
am super-proud — I have been out to a ^^ threat of 
a town " known as Mandres. When I arrived at 
five-thirty, about three thousand men were already 
there — and for the next half hour they kept on 
arriving — company after company. They were 
marched in regular formation for miles around — 
some came as far as ten miles — and they called it 
entertainment. As we approached there came to 
my ears, wafted by a rather damp French breeze, 
the old familiar strains of "Ohio, Ohio" — that 
to me had always meant O.S.U. (Ohio State Uni- 
versity) as out for blood — but not the kind they 
were after in France. Just regular college football 
blood. 

Then I heard that " Wah-hoo-wah-hoo — rip, zip, 
bazoo — I yell — like Hell — O.S.U." — and then I 
knew. I had struck my own gang — I thought we 
had heard some yelling in France, but I was wrong 
— those fellows must have disturbed St. Peter's 
afternoon " nap " considerably. 

We finally got them all there by about seven, 
and what a party! I was their girl from their 
State — and I'm sure each man there felt that he 



130 THE BIG SHOW 

had played with me when I was a child notwith- 
standing the fact that when I was a child I did a 
lot more working than playing. I could have 
hugged each and every one as if it had been true. 

I gave an hour and a quarter alone, and then the 
real fun started. One boy came up on my platform 
and sang beautifully alone — then we sang duets — 
the two bands vied with each other on " jazzing it 
up '' — then we start a sing-song — now it's getting 
dusk — the sun has become bored by our having 
reached the sentimental stage and has left us, for 
now we are singing " Perfect Day " — and the 
" Long, Long Trail '■ — to hear four thousand men, 
each one with some one person in mind, singing 
" To the day when I'll be coming down that long, 
long trail with you " is wonderful — but to hear 
them sing it three thousand miles from home — with 
a soft French twilight descending as if to veil the 
rather limpid light in most of those brave eyes — is 
a thing that has to be heard and then remembered 
until the " long, long Trail • ' ends. 

Pull yourself together. Private Janis! you are 
getting sloppy! 

The stars and moon butted in before we realized 
that it was time to quit, and I literally tore myself 
away — after shaking hands with at least a hundred 
who knew me, when they had those long return 
hikes to make — poor boys! I felt like trying to 
take each one home, but whistles blew — there were 



PROVINS GETS ZE BEEG " HA! HA! " 131 

several different variations of the old familiar 
" Squads right, etc.," and away they marched in 
different directions, singing different songs. Bless 
them ! they have not been in action yet, but I know 
they will fight like they sing, with all their good 
Ohio hearts — and if I do say it as shouldn't — 
we grow very big hearts in Ohio ! 

It rained all day yesterday and part of today, 
so those boys who sat there for three hours sing- 
ing, laughing and cheering were sitting in puddles. 

Do I come from Ohio ! ? By damn, yes ! 



CHAPTER VIII 

Forbidden Fronts 

WHEN the Big Boss of the Big Show told 
me that we could go anywhere on any 
front where there were American troops, 
I was very pleased and immediately asked to go to 
all the places that had been ^' forbidden fruit '' in 
the past. One bit of fruit which from its appear- 
ance and facilities for human comfort might well 
be described as the lemon in the basket of forbidden 
fruit was a place called Baccarat, up in what they 
call the Luneville Sector. I had received telegrams 
from the divisions there asking me to come up, 
but every time I asked to go people looked at me 
as if I had asked for a season ticket to Heaven or 
the other place. After seeing Baccarat, I think it 
was the other place they thought of — but G.H.Q. 
said certainly, that if I wanted to go to Baccarat 
•nuff said ! So they gave us a few more papers and 
off we went. We left Chaumont at ten a.m. and 
stopped at Colombey-les-Belles for lunch. 

The Colonel who had come down to Chaumont 
to ask us to come there met us at the camp and 
took us over to the officers' mess. It certainly is 

132 




2: 

P 
C 

K 
> 




^- '<iy 



I 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 133 

going to be dull for ns after the War, dining with 
one or two men — the War has driven any fleeting 
idea I had about getting married well out of my 
head, for I am not satisfied now unless I have at 
least a dozen good-looking Yanks passing me twenty 
things at once — and something tells me even an 
American husband, who is undoubtedly the best 
" tamed " of all, would balk at having an Army 
around the house even if he could afford it. 

We lunched exceedingly well, as everyone does 
with the American Army in France. Certainly the 
poor dears at home who have given up so much in 
the food line so that the boys in France might eat 
would be gratified to see those same boys in action 
in the Messroom Sector. Personally I hold the 
world's record for " fritter stabbing." 

After lunch I gave my show outside the Y. hut 
in the broiling sun. Until the Colonel made a little 
speech by way of introducing me, I did not realize 
how important my visit there was. The Colonel 
had told the boys that he was going to Chaumont 
to get Elsie Janis and that he would not come back 
without her promise to come. lie evidently ex- 
pected a battle. The boys told me they never had 
a doubt about my coming after the Colonel got on 
the job — because if he went for me like he went for 
them I would come or go just as he said. Some 
Colonel ! 

My audience was half British — as one of the big 



134 THE BIG SHOW 

British bombing squadrons was five miles away. 
They arrived in motor trucks, Rolls-Royces and 
Fords — needless to say the Fords arrived first. It 
was a fine party. I sang some songs that they 
knew and at the end had the British singing " Over 
Here " in a style that would have made George 
Cohan green with envy. " Ovah-heah — ovah-heah 
— send a word, send a word we ah heah ! '' 

True they were rather shy on r's, but when they 
sang at the end, " We won't come back till it's ovah 
ovah heah'' — r's or no r's, you looked into those big 
baby-blue British eyes — saw the Bulldog shining 
through, and knew that they meant it. 

I was enjoying myself so much that the much 
longed for Baccarat slipped my memory, and we 
got a rather late start for same, but finally got 
off amid cheers in English, French and American 
tones. Each place I go I want to stay, but per- 
haps it's just as well to leave them wanting more. 
My natural inclination is to give them all I know, 
and then go and learn some more to give them. 
On the way to Baccarat, Mousme, our priceless 
Peke, was taken ill, so we arrived there in a state 
of frenzy, and believe me one should be quite calm 
before taking in Baccarat. 

As we approached the Lun^ville Sector, ruin fol- 
lowed ruin. There was not an entire house stand- 
ing — and yet people seemed to be living or at least 
existing there. Sad-looking cows browsed in court- 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 135 

yards of what used to be houses, an occasional de- 
pressed looking horse stuck his head through a 
shell hole in a shattered wall as if trying to kid 
himself that he was on the inside looking out, 
when in reality he was only wearing the wall as a 
collar — discontented hens pecked about trying their 
best to enthuse over bits of shrapnel which should 
have been corn — altogether the Luneville Sector 
looked very promising, and I began to get quite 
excited because I said to myself these people must 
be under shell-fire all the time, and Baccarat is even 
nearer the Front. 

You see, it's really splendid playing under shell- 
fire. It " peps " you up so ; not knowing which 
song may be your last makes you do your best, 
spurred on by the ambition that fills every perform- 
er's heart to make a good exit. I had felt that way 
at Toul, and had thoroughly enjoyed it. So Bac- 
carat looked good to me. We arrived, and as we 
coasted down the hill into that town my fondest 
hopes were realized. Baccarat was literally shot 
to pieces. 

The hotel was, as we say in our set, ** all in." 
We rode slowly through looking for the Crimson 
Triangle amid the ruins. We finally found it on 
one of the most un-Christianlike old buildings I've 
ever seen. The Y.M.C.A. had just taken it over 
and had not had time to do much to it. It was two 
stories high and looked very much like those saloons 



136 THE BIG SHOW 

thej always have in movies of the Wild West! If 
the outside was comic, the inside was certainly 
tragic. The Y. folks had made our two tiny bed- 
rooms as comfortable as possible — nice clean beds, 
but the rest of the place was beyond description. I 
used a lot of mental science con\dncing myself that 
I did not want to bathe, see or do anything else 
in the civilized line. I kept listening for shells, 
bombs or something exciting, and finally I could 
resist no longer, so I asked the Y. man if the}" got 
shelled very often — and then the blow fell. ^' Oh, 
no I '' he said, " we only have an occasional air 
raid. All these ruins are the result of the French 
retreat in 1914. And the French themselves ruined 



r 



all these buildings getting the Germans out. 

Bang I went another hope. Baccarat was after 
all a fairly safe place, and as I looked out of my 
window I saw that grass, flowers and even trees 
had grown up in the ruins. 

They sent for the Vet. for Mousme. There is 
nothing the American Arm}" cannot produce. 

We dined in our room, which is the only place 
clean enough to enjoy a meal in, and then went to 
give my shows in tlie only building the French had 
missed — the Cinema Theater. It was verv nice 
and all whole. I gave two long shows, and even 
then some of the fellows could not get a seat, but 
they piled in somehow. 

Had to give the shows early, as all lights must be 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 137 

out by nine. They have had some terrible air raids, 
though for the last few days things had been calm 
owing to the fact that a new division had come in. 
The division they replaced was one famed for 
"treating them rough/' and they gave the Hun 
some proof that they deserved their fame. So the 
Hun took his revenge in dropping things on Bac- 
carat ; when the " treat 'em rough " division left 
the Boche flyers came over and dropped a friendly 

little message saying " Good-by, Division. 

We will get you yet." And when the new division 
arrived they sent another one saying " Welcome, 
Division. Be good ! " 

So far the latter request had been granted, so 
things were fairly quiet, but I have never seen any- 
thing quite as dark as that town. It rained very 
hard after the show, but the Colonel had asked us 
to go out to his — well, I don't really know whether 
it was a chateau, house or barn. It was so dark. 
We rode out in the pouring rain without a light 
of any description — had a bite of supper — listened 
to one of the best piano players I've heard — and 
then went home. 

Our hostelry was closed — barred — and from the 
odor inside I should think hermetically sealed — 
when we got there. 

We yelled, coaxed, knocked on iron shutters 
(very gratifying ! ) , but all of no avail. Finally our 
prayers were heard by just about the most impor- 



138 THE BIG SHOW 

tant personage in Baccarat — the traffic cop — better 
known as American M.P. He t'onnd one window 
that someone had forgotten to lock. Oh I it was 
closed — he got in and woke the keeper of the ke}^, 
who came down and let ns in with a sort of a 
** Where did you find a place that stars open?'' 
expression on his face. He lit us upstairs with one 
poor flickering little candle and told us we would 
find one each in our rooms. We did — after a 
search — but Motlier as usual was awav ahead of 

c 

them. She had a flock of candles and bv the time 

t. 

she finished with that two-by-four room it looked 
like an old Spanish church. We were just patting 
each other on the back when from the street in good 
old Down East tones came : '' Hey I you've got too 
much light up there. Put it out ! " I was all for 
blowing out ten candles with one blow, but Mother, 
who's really a bit of a rebel and whose motto is 
^^ Not without a strui>'ole," went to tlie window and 
said as it was raining so hard there was no danger 
of enemy airplanes. 

He was sorry, but orders was orders, so we de- 
cided it would be easier to go to bed — but even then 
we were wrong. There was nothing easy about my 
bed. It was built rather on the same plan as a 
Thompson Scenic Railway — sort of hilly like — and 
as I tossed from peak to peak or tried to squeeze in 
between them, I thought of all the world's greatest 
mart3'rs and was just about to admit to myself 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 139 

that they wore amateurs compared to me, when 
above the constant pat-pat-patter of the rain on the 
roof I heard ''tramp, tramp, tramp"! Oh! such 
a wet, Hoggy-sounding tramp, tramp, tramp. It 
came nearer and then I heard whistling — very 
softly at first but getting louder. Squads right! 
in a muffled voice. I jumped out of bed, lit a match, 
looked at my watch and saw that it was three-forty- 
five a.m. Then I had a hunch. "Just before 
dawn " is a very popular time for moving things 
in war. I ran to the window, had a battle with 
the shutters and leaned out. And there they were 
— some of the same boys I had played to that night 
going up to take their places in the Big Show\ I 
leaned out quietly and they kept coming — each 
little bunch humming their own tune or whistling 
— and when I heard three of my own songs I could 
no longer resist. I yelled out " Atta boy! " They 
did not dare stop, but some of them knew that 
funny voice of mine and they said, " So long, Elsie. 
Come back soon." 

I was so carried away at being in on that just 
before dawn stuff and seeing those tin lids, gas 
masks, rifles, etc., all going one way that I did not 
realize my teeth were chattering or that Mother 
was standing beside me weeping quite silently. 
Between sniffs she said, " You should not stand 
there in your nightgown." And between sniffs I 
answered, " They couldn't see me." " Oh," she said, 



140 THE BIG SHOW 

^' I mean you will catch more cold," and then we 
both leaned out again, knowing that we shared 
the same thought that a cold didn't much matter 
when you thought of what those dear boys were 
going into — splashing through inches of mud — 
loaded down like pack-horses. Forward — to what? 
They did not know, and they were singing and 
whistling. We waited until the last man had gone, 
saying good luck ! And then Mother for the second 
time tucked me into my Coney Island bed. 

Believe me, I curled up on one of those bumps 
and went to sleep thinking how^ lucky I was to have 
a bed at all — and how more than lucky I was to be 
living near — seeing and giving whatever I could 
give to boys like those. Tramp, tramp, tramp! 

Rain — mud — slush — and they had about five 
miles to go before getting into the nice " comfy '' 
front-line trenches wiiere knowing how to swim is 
almost as important as knowing how to shoot. 

The next day was a lovely sunshiny one — the 
kind of a day that seems entirely out of keeping 
with war. We got up early, and having heard that 
there were a lot of fellows up in the rest camp be- 
hind the lines wiio could not come in for the show^ 
we started out to try and give them whatever fun 
we could, without pianos, stages, etc. We hung the 
old gas masks on our necks, carried the tin lids 
and started to get into the car, when we were in- 
formed that our masks w^ere not regulation. So 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 141 

we had to go over to the Q.M.S. and get the latest 
model as worn in the Lun(:^ville Sector. The only 
improvement I noticed over our own masks was 
the fact tliat with the ones they gave us there 
seemed to be no doubt that anyone trying to put 
one on in a liurry would certainly beat the gas 
to its job by strangling themselves to death. We 
finally got off — the nearer we got to the Front the 
more picturesque the scenery became. Lovely syl- 
van woods, all cool and shady but filled with some 
of the meanest-looking big guns Uncle Sam pos- 
sessed — we got up right close to the lines. There 
was quite a show on, but my first audience had just 
come out of the line and were so glad to be alive 
that they did not seem to hear the guns at all. So 
I pretended not to hear either. There were only 
about two hundred of them — and they sounded like 
at least two thousand. I gave the show on the 
grass, down beside a little brook — well shaded by 
trees. Two or three huskies had dragged a piano 
up from somewhere, from the sound of it I should 
say they dragged it out of the brook. Bill knew 
it was not a piano and I knew it was not — but the 
piano was very proud of its good notes — l>oth of 
them ! I only gave them half an hour and then 
went on to the next camp ! There the show was in 
an ancient machine shop. Another half an hour 
show to about four hundred. This time no piano, 
for which much thanks — because BilFs expression 



142 THE BIG SHOW 

when he touched one of those instruments of tor- 
ture was so depressing that it took all the joy out 
of my performance. 

From that place we rode about twenty minutes 
througli a lovely forest and arrived at another lit- 
tle town — in the tiny little public square which 
though it was not labeled was undoubtedly called 
" Place de la Kepublique," as no little French ham- 
let is complete without one. 

There was a platform — I was a little ahead of 
my schedule — so we waited for the crowd to gather 
— in the meantime Bill, who had friends in every 
regiment in the A.E.F., disappeared — I don't know 
whether his courage failed him when he saw the 
piano — but anyway he just naturally made a get- 
awa}^ In ten minutes we had a big crowd — and I 
started tellino^ stories — veiling- madlv for Bill after 
each one — but he was missing. Finally I got peev- 
ish, knowing that I had another show to give before 
lunch — and would be late. So I said, ^' Can anyone 
beat the box? " Loud shouts of " Can they? I '' and 
up onto the platform stepped a slim little fellow 
with a pale face and modestly spoke thusly : 

"What will you have, Miss Janis?'- 

I nearly said " I'll take the same,'' but asked for 
" I Don't Want to Get Well." 

Could that Yank beat the box ! I'll sav he could I 

9.- 

He played everything I asked for and in any old 
key. He played a solo for me — Rubinstein's 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 143 

" Melody in F '' in ragtime — and I was wishing the 
Huns could hear him. 

About this time Bill appeared. I sweetly advised 
him to take a seat on a col)blestone and listen to 
a regular piano-player. Bill was a dear — he didn't 
even get " up stage " — he agreed with me. I could 
have stayed there playing with those fellows for the 
duration of the War. But I had to get on. 

I went there to give them pleasure — but certainly 
that time it was that boy's show\ The result of the 
" Jazz Jubilee " was that we arrived at the next 
little burg twenty minutes late, and just at lunch 
time. I had forgotten lunch until we landed right 
near the Mess and then I suddenly realized that we 
had only had a flirtation with a bit of toast and 
a cup of coffee that morning. Captain R., a very 
nice boy who was stage-managing the little tour, 
insisted that even actresses must eat. So we got 
the Commanding Officer's permission to give the 
show immediately after lunch. In the meantime we 
had found two of our best pals from New York. 
So we lunched with them in their quarters. Maybe 
we didn't talk and eat more in half an hour than 
seemed humanly possible. 

Then we gave the show in the tiniest Y.M.C.A. 
hut in captivity. It was also beside a stream and 
about five feminine antiques w^ere washing clothes 
in it. I must say they cramped my speed a bit. 
You know^ in France they don't wash clothes — they 



144 THE BIG SHOW 

spank them — and just as I would draw near to the 
point of a story — pat, pat, pat would go the laun- 
dry ladies in unison. After a time it got on the 
boys' nerves, too. I think it sounded too much like 
machine guns to add to our pleasure. Finally an 
intrepid Major went out to stop them. Ha, ha! 
We stopped the show because we had a hunch his 
act would be funnier than mine. 

^'' Arretez-vous/' said he, politely. 

Fortunately he could not get the gist of the re- 
sponding chorus. I could — but 111 never tell. Pat, 
pat, pat went the barrage of cleanliness and then 
Mother, who has never vet failed me at a crucial 
moment, slipped quietly out. I heard her speak 
one of her three French words. ^^ Attendez! " I 
tried not to look, but at the same time was planning 
how I would have to knock her out before I could 
rescue her from the stream where the laundry ladies 
would undoubtedly put her — but lol there was a 
silence. So sudden and so sweet as to be alarming. 
Mother had done the thing that will stop or start 
'most anything in France — she had flashed a 
twenty-franc note. Some poor Yank did not get 
his shirt that night — but Elsie gave her show and 
those five ladies put up their paddles and called off 
work for a week. From there we went back to 
town and on the way stopped at the hospital, where 
I gave a short show in a tent — onlv about fifteen 
minutes. I was really about all in, and I had been 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 145 

told that there were lots of wounded, and when I 
got there I found about six wounded, surrounded 
by at least a hundred nurses and fifty doctors. 
Though I love them all and know wiiat wonderful 
things they have done in the War, by that time I 
had just about as much voice as if I had been 
gassed, so I just told them that I was '* kaput '' and 
beat it for Baccarat. 

Now that all sounds like a day's work, but cheer 
up! the worst is yet to come. It was two-fifteen 
when Ave reached Baccarat. We took one last look 
at same and started on for Belfort, where I was 
scheduled for two shows that night. From Bacca- 
rat to Belfort is about one hundred and thirty kilo- 
meters and one of the prettiest drives in Europe. 
I must say the beauty of it left me cold that day. 
I had no voice — I had two shows to give that night 
— and the trip looked impossible — but w^e carried 
on. I didn't see the scenery— I had my eye on the 
clock— but it didn't matter, because in all our 
travels with the A.E.F., Mother and I were only 
going over ground that we knew by heart — for we 
had motored every summer all over the place. So 
this time it was just a case of get there! I hated 
the thought of missing a show — because one never 
knew whether they would ever get all the same 
fellows again. We beat it up and down those moun- 
tains like the Germans were after us, and we ar- 
rived in Belfort at six forty-five. I had sprayed and 



146 THE BIG SHOW 

gargled my throat all afternoon, and though it was 
not all there I did find a little voice. We were met 
by the Y. man in charge of the area, who informed 
us that the first show was at seven, but we screamed 
" It's ten to now ! " " Well," he said, " they will 
wait all night if they know you are really coming I " 

I said, " Telephone out and say we'll be there in 
an hour." 

Belfort has a real hotel. In fact Belfort is a real 
town and has been for some time. 

We rushed upstairs to a charming suite of rooms, 
looked at a lovely bathroom, glanced at a menu on 
which w^as printed a splendid dinner, but all that 
was not WaVy so I dressed with one hand, ate a 
sandwich with the other, and in exactly twenty 
minutes we were on our wav to Rousremont, where 
those dear patient boys yelled and welcomed me as 
if I had not been one minute late, let alone one 
hour. 

The show was in the public square, with the 
usual opposition of passing ammunition trains, 
automobiles, motor cycles and French children 
chattering, but I worked doubly hard because I was 
ashamed of being late. 

There were a lot of fellows from Wisconsin and 
other Western States. They gave college yells, the 
band played, I danced with about ten and then 
was reminded that there was another bunch who 
had waited an hour. So we left — and dashed over 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 147 

hill and dale — to the next place, which was one of 
the most interesting of all — a chateau, situated on 
the only bit of German soil the Allies held. I 
wouldn't dare say it was German soil if my French- 
Alsatian maid was among those present, because 
it was really xllsace-Lorraine, and though all 
French people claim that province has never been 
anything but French, all the signs in the little vil- 
lage were in German and all the natives spoke the 
language. What could be more fitting than that 
the Yanks should be holding that front? when 
every Yank w^ent to w^ar with the idea of getting 
back Alsace-Lorraine for France — which reminds 
me of a yarn they told me. 

The Crown Prince of Germany has lost much in 
the War, but it seems that it w^as a Yankee private 
who got his nighness' Royal goat. The Yank taken 
prisoner was brought before the Crown Prince, who 
said in his most Kultured manner : 

" What are you Americans fighting for? " 

The Yankee said without hesitation, "Alsace- 
Lorraine." 

The Prince said, "And what is Alsace-Lor- 
raine? " 

The Yank smiled and said, "Why, it's a big 
lake." 

" There you are," said the Prince to his staff, 
" these Americans don't know wliat they are fight- 
ing for," showing that the higher they are the 



148 THE BIG SHOW 

harder they fall — and that the Germans don't know 
when they are being- kidded. 

We arrived at the chAteau in Alsace and found 
the boys singing — after an honr's waiting. 

It was a lovely place with a dear little stage out 
in front of the chateau. Flowers, palms, etc., all 
around it, and about one thousand boys making 
almost as much noise as the guns, which were going 
strong. 

These Americans were sent to that sector for a 
rest because it was quiet. Well ! if what was going 
on that night is their idea of quiet, I would like to 
show them Tarrytown, N. Y. I started my show, 
and after one number some local talent made its 
appearance. One of the boys had dressed up in 
some comedy clothes and a really funny make-up. 
He put over about ten minutes of regular " fun " 
while presenting me with a bouquet of flowers. He 
recited — sang — danced — and all the time I played 
"straight'- for him. I found out after that he 
had been in vaudeville and he certainly was clever. 
I had a feeling that the day had been almost too 
good to last, and I was right. 

There is always a dash of bitter with the sweet, 
and so the dash came. I was just about to start a 
song when suddenly T heai'd the old familiar and 
never less thrilling tramp, tramp, tramp — and then 
I heard in the distance " So long, Elsie. See you 
again," and then " Three cheers for our Elsie." 



rOKBlDDEN FRONTS 149 

I stopped — quite stunned, as I had never been 
interrupted like that in all my work over there. 

An officer down in front stood up and said, 
" Sorry, Miss Janis, but some of the boys have to 
go into tlie line." 

Well, my party was ruined, for I knew that had I 
been on time they would have been able to see the 
whole show. 

I yelled " Good-by " and they went off — two bat- 
talions of them singing " When Yankee Doodle 
Learns to Parlez-Vous Fran^ais," the song I had 
just sung to them. I don't mind admitting that 
my next song was shy on " pep " and very strong 
on choked-back tears. They kept on yelling ^* Good- 
by " until they finally faded away — their cheery 
young voices drowned by the roar of the Boche guns 
they were going to face. 

I finished up my show, but could not get them out 
of my mind. We had a glass of " light wine " 
w^ith the General and his staff and then went 
home. 

It was the end of a perfect day — eight shows — 
and I could not speak out loud. 

The next morning we called a French throat spe- 
cialist, who examined my voice box and said I must 
not sing for a week. I thoroughly agreed with him 
and went on to Besan^'on, where I gave two shows 
for about five thousand men — out at an enormous 
camp called Valdehon. They w ere fellows who had 



150 THE BIG SHOW 

just come over, so I got all the news from home and 
learned two or three new songs I 

The next morning we left for Paris and Avent all 
the way through in one day, stopping at Dijon for 
lunch. 

On arriving in Paris we got an urgent telegram 
from London asking me to api)ear for the American 
soldiers there — I answered that 1 would do so in 
two weeks, but in the meantime we were to go to the 
most forbidden of all fronts — the British Front! 

THE SLAOKEK * 

He was only a little penny clerk 

Before the war began, 
Just a clod of earthy common clay 

That some folks called a man. 
"Your Kiuj? and (\)nntrv mvd von I" 

Meant nothing in his life. 
Though he hadn't anv mother 

And he eonUhrt alVord a wife. 
He hated the thought of killing, 

He hated the blasted War, 
And he couldn't be made to understand 

What the bloody thinu: was for. 
He was a slacker! 

Conscription came and they snai)ped him up 

Before he could bat his eye. 
And they said, '' Now, whether you will or not, 

We'll make you a regular guy! '' 



Dedicated to Guy Empey's book " Ovor Uw Top." 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 151 

So they gave him a Toiuiny's unirorm 

And they handed hini ont a j^nn, 
And they said, " Voirre goinjij to tiglit, mj lad, 

And get shot in the back if yon run." 
In alK)ut lour months tliey sent him out, 

Lie was weak in the knws and pale. 
And they knew in their hearts when the fun began 

That the blighter's nerve would fail. 
Lie was a slacker! 

When they gave him a front seat np in a trench 

Lie sat in a corner and ciied. 
While the Oeiinans gave his comrades hell 

And men on both sides of him died. 
Then he saw his chance and he ran for it 

Right back of the lines like a dog; 
He ran and ran to jui old cowshed, 

Then he dro[)|)ed to the ground like a log. 
That night after sundown they found him tliere, 

They court-martialed him on the sj)ot, 
And it took just ten minutes to make up their 
minds 

That the white-livered cur must be shot. 
He was a slacker! 

So they put him in charge of a sentry 

And marked him to be shot at dawn, 
He cried and he begged them for merci^;, 

LUit they growled: ''Shut your damn trap — 
you're gone I " 
He was sitting there moaning, not praying, 

When a whale of a big German shell 
Came straight on its way, not delaying. 

And knocked the poor sentry to hell. 



152 THE BIG SHOW 

When the slacker came to he was lying 
Face down in the mud, couldn't see, 

But he pulled his poor soul together 
And he saw like a shot he was free. 
He was a slacker! 

Then all of a sudden he gets up 

And throwing his head in the air 
That low-down, blinkin' deserter 

Starts in a-saving a prayer. 
" O God ! '' he says, '^ I've been rotten, 

But give me just one little chance; 
Just say what I've done is forgotten, 

Let me die like a man here in France. 
God help a slacker!" 

Then he ran like a hare to the trenches, 

And he grabbed up another man's gun, 
And he starts in to fight like a terrier, 

For the battle was nowhere near won. 
As he got there the Captain w^as saying, 

" Boys, it's a dangerous job ; 
For the man's life who does what I'm asking 

I wouldn't be offering a bob." 
" Let me go," said a voice from behind him. 

The Captain just stuck out his hand; 
When he saw who it was he near fainted 

And then yelled out, '' Well, I'll be damned ! 
It's the slacker! " 

He was over the top in a minute 

And gets back with the stuff that they want, 

With a look on his face right from Heaven 
And a courage that nothing could daunt, 



FORBIDDEN FRONTS 153 

But he sajH, " There's a fellow that'w dying 

On the barb wire in No Man's Land, 
And I'm not going to quit without trying 

To give the poor devil a hand." 
So he's out on the job in a minute 

And he brings the guy in on his back 
And he smiles, looking for all the world like 

Santa Claus toting his pack. 
Is this our slacker? 

He got his man back and was happy, 
He was far more than doing his i>art, 

When one of those damned German snipers 
Put a bullet right straight through his heart. 

This is only the tale of a fellow 

Who grew into a man in a night, 
One who had lived his life yellow 

And finished it up pure white; 
They buried him there with the others, 

In a little garden in France; 
He asked for a chance to show them, 

And he did when God gave him a chance. 
He was no slacker! 



CHAPTER IX 

The British Front 

IT is very difficult to write of your own expert- 
ences without sounding ver}^ self -centered. 
Those few lines by way of excuse for the fol- 
lowing ! 

On our arrival in Paris, I found waiting for me 
five offers to play and for real honest to goodness 
monev. Three French manaorers and two British. 
The French impresarios having seen me at Gaumont 
Palace with five thousand Americans cheering my 
efforts decided that I was a " riot." I suggested 
that I did not always get so much applause when 
the spectators had to pay. They would not listen. 
They wanted me, but I was too far gone on the 
A.E.F. to concentrate on any real theater, so I 
thanked them and declined. 

The British offers we said we would consider, as 
Mother and I both had a hunch that sooner or 
later I would have to make some money — for it 
was all going out and nothing coming in. 

But a sixth proposition appealed to me — the one 
which asked me to come to London and play on 

154 



THE BRITISH FRONT 155 

a Sunday night at my old home, the Palace Theater, 
where Sir Alfred Butt and a committee of very 
kind-hearted English managers were giving weekly 
shows for the American soldiers. 

They gave these soldiers shows all winter, and 
our boys saw and heard the best artists in London 
for nothing. More of that later. When we walked 
into the British Provost Marshal's in Paris to re- 
ceive our permission to go to the British Front, 
Foch, Clemenceau, Lloyd George and President 
Wilson were unimportant compared to us. At 
least in my estimation, for be it understood that 
that same front was " taboo " to some very impor- 
tant people — hundreds of English artists would 
have given anything they possessed to go, and were 
not permitted to do so — and when I announced to 
friends in Paris that we were going there, they 
looked at me with a sort of ^' Poor girl, too bad she 
drinks — she has nice eyes " expression. We signed 
papers agreeing to many things before we got the 
passes. Among the conditions were one that made 
me laugh. We had to promise not to go to Ger- 
many during the War. I assured them that I did 
not crave Germany though I did possess a pre- War 
contract for Berlin. 

Our passes read " by command of General Per- 
shing," and neeflless to say that one little line ex- 
plains their existence. 

On July 19th we left Paris at nine a.m., stopped 



156 THE BIG SHOW 

at Beauvais for lunch. When we rolled up to the 
little hotel about ten little French boys jumped on 
the car and held out very dirty little French hands. 

" Ah," I said, " there must be some Americans 
here/' and when we failed to get their idea and 
did not " come across " the little boys all swore in 
such good American that there could be no doubt 
about it. 

During lunch the French waitress confided to 
me that they had had an American division there 
for a week ^^ en repos '^ and were desolees because 
they had been taken away. She said that les 
Americains were so beau — so big — so frank — and 
she added so generous^ as if she had never thought 
of it before, but I was wav ahead of her — I've seen 
our boys go into a little town like that, " all paid 
up and nowhere to blow." 

At five in the afternoon we arrived at Ahheville! 
What a change since the days when we used to 
stop there for lunch en route by motor from Lon- 
don to Paris ! There was literally no place to live 
in the town, but the Y. man met us and took us on 
through town out to a charming chateau that the 
Y.M.C.A. were using with the kind permission of a 
French lady who was one of the most charming 
examples of true French hospitality ever seen. She 
retained two or three rooms for herself, and other- 
wise the entirely lovely house and estate were 
turned over to the Y.M.C.A. As usual we were a 



THE BRITISH FRONT 157 

little behind our schedule — so we grabbed a cup of 
tea and started on up to the Front. We passed 
through Abbeville again — and got a good look at 
the dirty work of the Huns. In one little square, 
or rather what was once a square and is now just 
a heap of ruins, we saw where nine houses had 
stood when one aerial torpedo hit them, went all 
the way through and knocked them flat, killing 
eleven British W.A.A.C.'s — a nice cheery sight to 
show me on my way up to spread gayety. 

Our entree to the sacred British Area w^as not 
particularly gay. It had been raining all day and to 
add to our joy bang ! went a front tire. The driver 
fixed it with us all timing him — and we started on. 
Ten minutes later things began to get very interest- 
ing, one could hear the guns in the distance, and 
every minute we could hear that we were getting 
nearer to them. Bang! went another tire — and 
Willis the driver calmlv remarked that he must 
mend an inner tube. Time never meant much in 
my life until I went to war, but I know I shall 
never go back to my old habits of holding the cur- 
tain again. I leapt out of the car determined to 
stop anything on wheels that was going towards 
the Front — even if it was one of the guns. Some- 
thing came, but it was not a gun — it was an Aus- 
tralian soldier, which is almost as dangerous. I 
waved frantically and between being surprised at 
anyone daring to get in his way and the shock of 



158 THE BIG SHOW 

seeing a girl " up there," he nearly ran over the 
latter. You see I never wore a uniform, and in 
fact the men all told me I was the first girl they 
had seen. 

Of course W.A.A.C.'s, nurses, ambulance drivers 
and all those other splendid examples of feminine 
heroism were considered by the men to be soldiers. 
I was just a girl in a blue serge suit — ^very thin silk 
stockings — a silver fox fur and rather a smart hat 
if I do say it — as shouldn't. I am sure that Aus- 
tralian had read carefully the Army rules about a 
soldier's conduct towards the women in France 
and was thoroughly prepared to live up to them. 
He was coldly tolerant — as I explained that I must 
get up to Molliens-le-Bois by seven. ^' Sorry," 
he said, " I've got to be at ' Somethingville ' by 
seven." But I pleaded : " You must take us, I am 
going up to give a show for the Americans." " Oh," 
said he, " well, if it's for the Americans, jump in." 
And I'll sa}^ we jumped. Mother, Bill, the Y. man 
and myself. I jumped for the front seat — for 
though the Australian was rather freezing, he had 
a wind shield — and it was an open car. 

We started off, and after poking along at about 
ninety miles an hour with that Australian, I am 
not surprised at the reputation his fellow-fighters 
have for fjetting there! I was almost as bent on 
melting that icy " Aussie " as I was on getting to 
the Front. So I had to work fast. We passed a 



THE BRITISH FRONT 159 

whole flock of artillery going up, and when he be- 
gan pushing guns off the road with his fenders 
and yelling, " What the hell do you want — the 

whole road! " I felt as if we were old friends, 

so I ventured, " How do you find the Americans? " 
" Oh," said he, with what would have been a smile 
if the wind had not been so strong, '' The Ameri- 
cans are O.K. They're there! We're holding some 
of the line with 'em — about one man every quarter 
of a mile! Oh, yes! we're for 'em. Why," he 
added, '' they speak our language " — I did not tell 
him that I had realized that when we passed the 
guns, but I did " chuckle " at the idea of the Yanks 
and the Aussie speaking their own language on the 
British front. I could not resist reminding him as 
I often had to remind our boys that if it had not 
been for England they might never have been at all. 
He got my drift and he said, " Oh, I've got nothing 
against England, but there's entirely too damn 
much brass buttons about this here British Army." 
The Aussie, be it understood, wears a tunic that 
looks like a cross between a golf coat and a kimono. 
He must be comfortable when he goes " Hun- 
shooting." He is a splendid fellow, and, after all, 
brass buttons are a matter of taste. Personally 
I love them. By the time we reached Molliens-le- 
Bois, I had firmly decided Australia was on the 
map, for me, at some future time. 

Moliiens-le-Bois was charming, but wet. The 



160 THE BIG snow 



boys were waiting for me, huiulreds of khaki- 
colored dots against the dark-green background of 
a very thick wood. I went into a tent — changed 
shoes — powdered nose — sprayed throat — stood on 
stones to keep out of a half foot of water and went 
to it. Fine crowd, mostly Americans witli a smat- 
tering of Aussies and Tommies. They had built a 
platform for me right in the heart of the wood. We 
could hear the Boche aviators snooping about above 
our heads, but Nature's camouflage was too good 
and they could see nothing. 

As I was leaping about festively to the tune of 
" Strutters' Ball/' the platform gave way in the 
middle, and down I went out of sis^ht. Beine: fairly 
husky I pulled myself out before the entire audi- 
ence could come to my assistance, and fortunately 
Bill did not weaken, but kept right on playing. So 
when I came up, I came right on the beat and 
finished the song as if nothing had happened. 

As my show was finishing, a whistle blew and 
here and there a Yank jumped to his feet, yelled 
" So long, Elsie ! • ' and ran. I watched them in 
the distance lining up, putting on gas masks and 
other " weight," then I knew they were ^' going 
up." I stood leading the band as they all marched 
away. I changed the tune to " Over There,'' and 
they all sang it. I am getting quite used to being a 
sort of human hors d'crirvre now. 

One of the officers said, " Those fellows will give 



TIIIO lUUTlSU FitONT 101 

Fritz all that'H corning to him, you H(t<t. 'i'h^- \U-\t- 
jsli j^ivo tlHfir rrK^n rum h^doni a hattJc-, Uir^ l'Ntrjc:h 
f!0^na<', anrJ wf* j^ivr^ ours Janis." 

f told him I \\ii<] iKtvo.v \)(^(ti\ Hitrvcd as a r]rirjk 
Ixtforf, hut at any ratr^ J was in Htrorifj (!omi)any. 

MoKt of that orowfJ v^cvit from T'hifa^o, or thfirfi- 
aboutH, an(J thoy ha(J a jazz han(J that would drive 
I^illy Sunday to drink — and makfi him do the 
^^ ea^le rork." I asked if thf-y eould play the 
^^ Pieale Street 151 ues." The leader said he thought 
HO, and would I lead it? 1 said '^ Let's ^o," and we 
did. If I eould only describe the joy of havinj^ 
about forty fellows all blowing thr>ir niee younj^ 
faees nearly off just for you — f)Ut some things ean't 
be deserifjed. I ean only say that I (juite forgot 
1 had had no dinner, or that I must go on to an- 
other plaee, until the General sent orders that 
Miss Janis must eat, and that if she would not leave 
the band, thc^ band must leave her. So we eom- 
I>romis(t<J. I went into a tent and had some food 
with the oflicers, and the band playful outside. I 
know everything that was done for me in Franee 
was meant to be kind, but asking me to sit down 
ealmly and eat with a band jazzing it up outside, 
borders on eruelty. While falling through the plat- 
form I had torn my stocking. A catastrophe! ])e- 
cause my silk stockings were always one of my most 
important bits of equipment. Their contents never 
counted for much, but the stockings themselvfis I 



162 THE BIG SHOW 

know looked good to the boys after months of Army 
socks. So how to stop the run in same black silk 
equipment became a question of the moment. And 
can you believe that up there in view of the enemy, 
where the mud was a foot deep and I had to be 
carried to and from the stage, a little American 
sergeant stepped up with not only a needle and 
thread but with black silk thread! An event like 
that could have been a scandal, but it was a real 
blessing, and the sarge got three cheers — I never 
knew I could sew, before that time, but then I 
found out a lot of things about myself in France. 
Mother was tliere, of course, to help me as always. 

From there we went to General B.'s headquar- 
ters, where out in the lovely grounds two thousand 
khaki heroes were waiting. About ten per cent. 
British, and it did my heart good to see our boys 
with their arms about the shoulders of the Tom- 
mies, for though I am very strong for France, and 
all her glory, I am also doubly strong for the Eng- 
lish-speaking races! not only speaking the same 
language, but understanding each other when they 
do speak. 

I gave the show^ on two big motor trucks backed 
up against each other — with the little bit that lets 
down at the back making the stage — about four 
feet in breadth. Some stage and believe me, turn- 
ing a cartwheel in a space of four feet is more than 
a feat — it's a miracle. 



THE BRITISH FRONT 163 

My show was an hour and a quarter — because 
when there are British I have to sing songs from 
my London shows, just to even things up. 

After the performance we went into the chateau 
and the General showed us on the big war maps 
what the Yanks were doing. The tide had turned, 
and the Huns were on the run. The French push- 
ing them on one side at Soissons with the efficient 
aid of our boys. The British shoving them at 
Rheims and great things expected at Chateau- 
Thierry. I won't say that I was surprised, for I 
will back the Yanks to take objectives if they once 
get their chins well set, but I was proud, oh! so 
proud to know that our boys who had never been 
trained to the idea of war were able to come among 
seasoned warriors not only to hold their own but 
also take what they wanted. It was about nine- 
thirty and the Boche was starting his nightly dis- 
play of fireworks. As we were driving home in the 
inky darkness the sky was ablaze with star shells, 
Very lights, etc. We were stopped six times by 
sentries, coming home. 

Certainly the British front is the most exclusive 
of all, and no one could complain of its being dull. 
During the week we were up there the roar of 
the guns never entirely ceased. Just one nice 
long thunderstorm, but alas! no rainheam in 
sight ! 

We reached the cha.teau at midnight, very tired. 



164 THE BIG SHOW 

and fell into our very nice soft beds. One could 
still hear the guns, and I went to sleep thinking 
what a nerve I had to be tired when hundreds of 
mother's dear boys were up there patiently obeying 
the order of " Battery ready — tire ! " all day and 
all night. 

The next day at dawn we were rudely awakened 
not by the guns, because one got so used to them 
and I must say I prefer them as an alarm clock — to 
what we got. It had rained all night, and of course 
we had our windows open. Sufficiency ! At dawn 
started a concentrated attack by at least all of the 
regular army of flies in France, and some of the 
reserves. They had their own glee club and jazz 
band and of course all sleep was off. I was furi- 
ous because I was in one of the few good beds I 
had met; however, the only thing to do was to 
pull the covers over the kid curlers and be grate- 
ful as Polly anna would have been that that crowd 
of flies w^ere not mosquitoes. 

The flies won the battle, and when at about ten 
we got up from sheer fatigue, we found that our 
driver Willis and Bill the music man had taken 
the car and gone to Abbeville for inner tubes — and 
there we were sunk in that big lonely chateau. 
The hostess had gone to see her daughter some 
miles away — the Y. men were all out on the job — 
the servant had been told to give us our breakfast,^ 
but nothing about any other food, so had tea and 



THE BRITISH FRONT 165 

toast for breakfast and then again for lunch — and 
more tea and toast for tea. 

It rained as it can only rain in France, and all 
our boys will back me up, I know, w^hen I say that 
it is the most untiring rain in the world. We could 
not go out because we had no clothes to spare — 
we could not drive the flies out, we could not write 
letters because the hostess had taken the keys of 
the library where the ink w^as buried, so there we 
sat, and believe me, gentle reader, when Bill and 
the chauffeur returned about five, having lunched 
very well and not on inner tubes, they thought the 
big offensive had started, as I had lost a chance 
to give another show. Unfortunately or fortu- 
nately for the tw^o deserters w^e had to move right 
on up to the Front to give two shows, so we had 
not time to tell them what we really thought. It's 
probably just as well because the car would not go 
without the driver and the piano would not go 
without Bill — and we could not let our own private 
war interfere with the real one. 

It was still pouring when w^e left for the Front 
— w^e went to a town called Beauval, where we 
dined with the officers and it looked very much 
like no show — as all my shows up there were out 
of doors, but just as we were finishing dinner the 
rain stopped, as if by magic, so I gave the show on 
a w^ater-soaked little platform in the little public 
square which looked rather like a swimming pool. 



166 THE BIG SHOW 

It takes more thau even French rain to cramp the 
speed of our boys, so they were waiting two thou- 
sand strong. 

Gave about an hour's show. General K. made a 
charming and very flattering speech and just as 
he was saying, " Now, boys, three long ones for 
Elsie Janis ! '' the rain started again as if by magic. 
So the second show had to be postponed until the 
next day, and we came back to the chateau. I hate 
only doing one show in a day — it seems so little — 
the flies were waiting for us when we came home, 
and we firmly decided to make a getaway, though 
the original idea was to make that chateau our 
headquarters. Personally while not wishing to 
pull any lieroine stuff I must say I prefer shells 
now and then to flies all the time. The shells may 
not get you, but there is no doubt about those 
French flies. 

Word came througli that night that the Allies 
were going strong on all points and the Huns were 
homeward bound. The next day was Sunday, not 
that that makes much difference in war — but I 
woke myself up by giving a tremendous slap to 
what I thought was a fly, but what turned out to be 
my nose — As I came to I heard strange music. 
Suddenly I thought perhaps the flies had worried 
me to death and I had gone to heaven — voices 
singing " Onward, Christian soldiers '' I heard dis- 
tinctly, but I was still in the flies retreat — and the 



THE BRITISH FRONT 167 

hymn was being sung by about twenty Y.M.C.A. 
workers who had come from miles around to hold 
a meeting. We decided that they were right. On- 
ward was the idea, whether one happened to be a 
Christian soldier, or not. So we got busy— and 
went onward and forward — we lunched at General 
K.'s headquarters and got more good war news. 
General J. was also lunching there, and after lunch 
we went on over to Doullens, where his brigade 
were stationed. Nice crowd, of fifty-fifty American 
and British, in the public square as usual. 

Afterwards had tea with a flock of " big guys '^ 
at General J.'s chateau — which by the way was well 
strafed by the Boche a few days later — and one of 
the officers sent me one of the few things that was 
not completely " done in," which was a small sign 
with " Elsie Janis — over here " printed on it, and 
several shrapnel wounds on its surface. A nice sou- 
venir to have. When I am an old lady I can at 
least prove that I was a head-liner in Doullens. 

After tea we went on to Fruges, where we found 
they had prepared most alluring quarters for us 
in what was known as the " rest house '• — a place 
for w^andering Generals to repose their weary 
medals. We were not Generals and we had no 
medals, but one look at the rest house convinced 
us that the Chateau Bonance at Abbeville was 
napoo for us. So while I was giving my show we 
sent the driver back for our things, which were not 



168 THE BIG SHOW 

even packed. We told him to just bring every- 
thing except the flies — lie did, making a record trip. 
The show was at seven and indoors, quite a pleasant 
surprise. Splendid band I 

After the performance we dined with Major- 
General R. and his staff. He was one of the finest 
types to be seen on any front, and all the officers 
around him reflected his charm and dignity. One 
especially nice Colonel really took care of us as 
if we had been children, and after a very won- 
derful dinner suggesting anything but war, our 
Colonel took us back to the rest house and did 
everything to make us " comfy '' except tuck us in. 
Someone is very lucky in being Mrs. Colonel, and 
I saw her picture; in fact, I have never seen so 
many wives in evidence as I saw in France. Nearly 
every officer I met showed me a wife's picture — and 
I am proud to say usually his own — that is, if he 
showed it to me. 

We awoke next morning after a really splendid 
sleep. An orderly came to bring some coffee and 
with it the great news that the Germans were 
thrown back across the Marne and that the Ameri- 
cans were after them — some swimming rather than 
wait for pontoons. 

We left Fruges after lunch. It was raining for 
a change, but cleared off as we drew nearer to our 
objective, which was a small town in Flanders right 
back of Ypres — more of a village than a town — 



THE BRITISH FRONT 169 

called Watou, pronounced by the Tommies " What- 
ho'M 

That trip was really the most warlike one we had 
had — camion after camion of troops going up — big 
guns — little guns — tanks, and instead of an occa- 
sional observation balloon I counted no less than 
fifteen strung along in a row — over the Allied 
lines, and in the distance the same number of Ger- 
man ones over the Boche lines. They looked so use- 
less — great big ^^ hot dogs '' hanging there — but how 
wonderful they are — and I admit that my idea of 
a brave man is one of those observers — they go up 
knowing they can't protect themselves. Three and 
four airplanes at a time picking on them — Archies 
barking at them from below and the best they 
have to look forward to is at least a two or three 
thousand foot drop with a comic parachute which 
may or may not " chute." I shall never forget 
Watou. The — th Division was up there — and I 
only could have about a thousand men, because the 
Boche planes were very busy, and if they saw a big 
crowd that would mean strafing at once. There was 
nothing to hide under in Watou. If there ever were 
trees there they had all given up the fight — in fact, 
that entire sector looked rather like certain parts 
of Kansas — and anyone who has been through the 
part of Kansas I mean will realize that when the 
French gave Flanders to the British to look after, 
they forgot the Entente Cordiale. 



170 THE BIG SHOW • 

There was one street in Watou — at least I don't 
think there was more than one, because nothing 
missed the street I saw. My platform was in a lot 
right beside it and when I started my show, every- 
thing else started simnltaneously. The guns, which 
had only been murmuring, started to roar — artil- 
lery clanked by — big tractors, dragging even bigger 
guns — and — tanks! I had always wanted to see a 
tank battalion, but they did not help the point of 
my stories. However, I carried on, dancing a bit 
when the noise was too much. Finally things died 
down a bit and I took a long breath and prepared 
to start again — when all of a sudden. Bang! boom ! 
put, put, put — and right behind me it seemed — I 
looked at the boys who were all doing their best 
to stick with me — but furtive glances were being 
cast skywards — not right above me but behind me. 
Finally I could resist no longer, so I looked. There 
against the sky was one of our own big sausages 
with two Boche 'planes flying around it — swooping 
down on it like vultures — the anti-aircraft guns 
were turned on them and shells were bursting all 
around. Black shrapnel from tlie Boche side and 
w^hite from ours. I realized that my style was 
cramped, for all the boys were cross-eyed trying to 
look at me and at the opposition at the same time. 
I turned to the boys and said, " I want to see this 
show, too, so we will have an intermission until 
they finish their act." So I sat down on the ground 



THE BRITISH FRONT 171 

with the boys, and we watched for about ten min- 
utes—nothing could get that plucky observer out- 
he stayed right there until our own guns made 
it so hot for the Boche that they beat it for 

home. 

I then finished my show, which seemed to me to 
be rather of the small-time order in comparison 
with the one we had just witnessed. I must admit 
that I was not sorry not to play a long run at 

Watou ! 

From there we went to Houdezeele, which looked 
even worse than it sounds— and there, wonder of 
wonders ! we found a General without a chateau— 
a General, in fact a Major-General— commanding 
one of the finest divisions of all— and there he was 

in a tiny little French house in H . I've just 

looked on my map to find out the correct way to 
spell Houdezeele, and I find it is not even on the 
map, but my map must have been made before 
the — th Division hit that neck of the woods. I'll 
bet Houdezeele is on the map now, because those 
boys sure did make some history. 

We dined in the tiny house with General O., who 
it seemed to me at first was rather young and blue- 
eyed to be a Major-General— but later on I decided 
that he was a man who could be most anything he 
decided to be. During dinner he said, " Now, Mrs. 
and Miss Janis, we know how hard you have been 
working, so we are going to try to give you a little 



172 THE BIG SHOW 

recreation this evening." And I'll say they did. 
We walked over to a large field, where on several 
trees were nailed most lovely posters of me, say- 
ing " Tonight — at seven " drawn by a private in 
the Army. But certainly a splendid artist in or 
out of it. There was a stage flat on the ground — 
and the audience was the same. A tent at the back 
for the artists to change in. We were escorted up 
to the front row of the lot where a few officers' 
coats made a very dry and comf}^ place to sit — 
and then the show started. And some show! they 
had everything — jazz band, black-face comedians, 
lovely chorus ladies, and the leading man was a boy 
we knew well who had been at the Centurv with 
me. I could not help thinking how nice and quiet 
he must have found a real battlefield in compari- 
son with the stage at the Century Theater. 

We did love the show — and it was reallv ffood — 
not just because they were soldiers, but because 
they were soldier actors. One of the finest com- 
binations produced by the War! 

When they had finished I started, and I must 
say I had something to follow — but they were very 
generous to me and showed no signs of professional 
jealousy! Bless them — they were a fine bunch and 
I hope some day to play with them again. The 
" ladies " especially were very good felloics — they 
even offered to lend me their powder puffs. 

After their show six lovely fairies disappeared 



THE BRITISH FRONT 173 

into the tent and a few minutes later six strong- 
looking guys in khaki came out. 

That night when we got back to Fruges and the 
rest house, our Colonel was waiting for us with 
some sandwiches — liquid refreshment and more 
good war news. So we turned in with very light 
hearts — and the firm conviction that the — th 
Division was ace high — and that I would ask noth- 
ing better than to be a member of that troupe of 
splendid soldier actors who went about spreading 
joy right up in the front line trenches — having but 
one thought, and that one to make things as happy 
as they could for their fellow-men. 

We left Fruges and the charming rest house at 
ten the following morning. Once more it was 
pouring — but that did not prevent our nice Colonel 
from standing out in front of the rest house waving 
good-by and making us very sorry to leave. 

We reached the chateau of General Mc. — near 
St. Pol — in time for lunch. On the w^ay w^e passed 
battalion after battalion of our boys all marching 
the way w^e were going. We waved to them as we 
always did to any Americans on the road — and they 
all yelled " Hello, Elsie ! " so I suspected they were 
plodding along in that terrific downpour to see me. 
When w^e got there I looked out the window and 
saw a perfect sea of " slickers " (waterproofs) with 
smiling wet faces above them. I did not want to 
eat lunch with them standing, but the General 



174 THE BIG SHOW 

said there were hundreds more to come — so we 
lunched and then went out on the verandah of the 
chateau — where the band was playing despite the 
fact that they had to stop every few minutes to 
pour the water out of their instruments. 

There were six thousand men who had marched 
from miles around and there they stood drenched — 
but cheering — I started to try to sing, but between 
the rain and loud claps of thunder which proved 
that all the scientists with all their high explosives 
are pikers compared to God's own cannonade, they 
could not hear me, though I yelled until I was 
hoarse. So I took the baton from the band-leader, 
and yelled that they must help me out — and then 
the fun began! I led them and they sang — every- 
thing that they knew — between songs I danced for 
them — my feet were soaked, my hair was hanging 
in my eyes — my hat was well on one ear, but I 
never had so much fun in my life. Every time I 
would stop for a moment they would all sing, 
" Wait till the sun shines, Elsie." So I waited, 
hoping — but alas I in vain. It still poured. 

Finally after an hour and a quarter I really had 
to quit — I was soaked, for though they had a cover 
over the platform it would have had to be bomb- 
proof to stop that rain. 

I said good-by and turned to tell them how sorry 
I was — but a clap of thunder spoiled my speech, so 
I threw kisses instead, and those six thousand regu- 



THE BRITISH FRONT 175 

lar guys gave me three cheers that must have made 
the thunder jealous. 

We drove awaj with them still smiling and sing- 
ing, " Wait till the sun shines, Elsie ! " Oh I how 
I w anted to wait I but in France you can't tell about 
the sun, and we had to make Paris that night. 

Paris was radiant — the Americans w^ere in 
Chateau-Thierry with both feet and the Huns w^ere 
in such a hurry — the only things that could keep up 
with them were the airplanes — several of my pet 
divisions were around Chateau-Thierry — so I im- 
mediately got busy to get permission to go there — 
which we did after a dash over to London! 



CHAPTER X 

Following the Hurrying Huns 

DURING the War all countries seem to be 
like very large dogs in very large mangers. 
They don't want you themselves, but they 
don't want you to go anywhere else — so when we 
decided to go to England for one week, it required 
some explanations. 

As usual we leapt about from passport bureau 
to Consulate and finally found ourselves at Le 
Havre, where the best thing we could get on a 
Channel boat was one tiny room with two bunks 
• — no sheets on same, and so we just rolled up in 
blankets and prayed for a smooth crossing — and 
I must admit that though we have crossed the ocean 
seven times during the War, I felt the first tremor 
of submarine terror on that dinky little Channel 
boat. I found myself looking at the port-hole, 
which had to be shut tight so that no lights would 
show — and wondering if I could get my slim but 
strong hips through that particular sized opening 
— then I went to sleep and dreamed I could not 
get my head through. We woke up in Southamp- 

176 



FOLLOWING THE HURRYING HUNS 177 

ton — one of those nice cheery English mornings — 
a pea-green fog — which gradually lifted to let a 
nice steady rain filter through. We disembarked 
and spent about an hour having papers and bag- 
gage examined. We only had one trunk, for which 
much thanks. The British authorities examined 
everything, even to my vanity case — I don't blame 
them because if I found two women traveling with 
as many papers and passes as we had, I would 
shoot them as spies and tear up the papers. I don't 
crave having things searched, especially when they 
go into the sacred domain of the " lip-stick," powder 
box, etc., but one rather amusing thing happened. 
In my bag was a slip of paper — a very dirty and 
suspicious-looking slip of paper — on which was 
written the following: " Ah-Wah-ta-na-Siam," 
which is the Siamese National Anthem, as taught 
to me by a British General in France. If you will 
sing those words to the tune of " My Country, 'Tis 
of Thee," you will be able to imagine the feelings 
of the snoopy authority who insisted on knowing 
what was on that bit of paper. 

" Ah-Wah-ta-na-Siam." 

He was only doing his duty, poor fellow, but 
truth will out. By the time they had finished with 
us and said we could proceed I had lost all desire 
to do so, and was whole-heartedly regretting the 
fact that I was not a spy; however, once in the 
train with the lovely green hills and hedges of Eng- 



178 THE BIG SHOW 

land unfolding before my eyes, I forgot everything 
except the fact that I was in England, and that 
next to going back to America, going back to Eng- 
land is the best thing that can happen to me. 

Once in London, and we realized where the War 
really tvas. In France, if you had money, you 
could get butter, you could get cream and other 
^^ choses dcfendus/^ but in England Law is Law 
and, believe me. King or beggar you could not get 
things without coupons. Three tiny pieces of meat 
a week as far as I am concerned is teasing the 
animals, but England was still England — with the 
theaters going strong, and all of the shows filled 
with jokes about the hardships of life during the 
war. Other countries might have wept at the lack 
of coal, butter, cream, meat, lard and hundreds of 
other things, but the British, who some short-eared 
people say have no sense of humor, were still laugh- 
ing after nearly five years of suffering. 

Once in London and comfortably installed in the 
same corner suite at the Carlton which we have 
occupied off and on for ten years, we forgot the 
shortage of food, we were very long on friends — 
and among them some rather high officials of the 
Government, so we proceeded to enter a large- 
sized kick — about being " held up " so strenuously 
at Southampton. I had an idea that maybe it was 
on account of my rather German sounding name, 
so Mother got all ready to shake the family tree — 



FOLLOWING THE HURRYING HUNS 179 

whose leaves prove that my forefathers with a great 
amount of foresight landed in America in 1744 and 
as far as we can find out I am the only member 
of the family that has ever left the country since. 
Mother was also ready to wave a couple of British 
great-grandfathers in the face of anyone who was 
curious, but before we could do anything the 
American Army was on the job with an explanation 
and an apology — and all was well. 

It seems that in 1915 we broke the anti-aliens 
law by taking in and taking out of England my 
Alsatian maid, and for that we got a bad mark. I 
asked if they thought I had her concealed in my 
powder box? which the official at Southampton ex- 
amined carefully — however, we forgot about it in 
the excitement of work. We arrived on Saturday, 
and on Sunday night I played at the Palace for our 
boys and a few English soldiers. It was a great 
night. The thrill of being back at my old home, 
the Palace, was something and the combination of 
being there and playing for our boys was inspiring. 
After the show we had supper with a large party 
of friends, American and English, who almost con- 
vinced me that there was a lot of work for me in 
England, as thousands of Americans were arriving 
every week en route for France, and I could play 
here, make money and still be in touch with the 
A.E.F. 

We began to weaken. The next day we went out 



180 THE BIG SHOW 

to give a show for Yanks — wounded — ill — and sta- 
tioned at a place that used to be an insane asylum, 
but was turned over to the Americans — nothing 
personal about it. A charming and exceedingly 
well-run hospital, where I found many friends. I 
gave five shows while in London, and at the end 
of the week there was no argument left, I had to 
come back to England, and play — combining busi- 
ness with pleasure. The business being to play at 
the Palace, the pleasure to continue my work for 
our boys. 

We left England the next Saturday, and I must 
say our exit was much better than our entrance 
into England. All the officials at Southampton 
bowed low — and a charming American officer was 
sent down there with us to see that we were well 
taken care of. 

At Havre on Sunday I gave one show in the 
local town hall, and at night went out to Etretat, 
where the Americans had taken over a hospital. 

There were only about three hundred in the audi- 
ence — including some extremely pretty nurses — 
and if they could cure Yanks as well as they 
cheered me — I'm sure no one stayed very long at 
Etretat. 

It was now August third, and in Havre the offi- 
cial bulletin announced that the Allies had taken 
forty thousand German prisoners since July 15th, 
and the Americans had crossed the Vesle. 



FOLLOWING THE HUKRYING HUNS 181 

The following morning we got up at six in order 
to catch the early train for Paris. The hotel was 
facing the quay, and when I went to open the win- 
dow, what should greet my rather sleepy eyes but 
the good ship Yale which used to run from New 
York to Boston — laden with American troops — one 
mass of khaki! Bless them, there they were just 
getting ready to land and meet the great adventure 
face to face. I went out on the balcony and wig- 
wagged to them with a pink kimono. They yelled 
and waved at me, and I'm sure they thought I was 
some French " cutie " giving them a w^elcome. 

On arriving in Paris we were greeted by Big 
Bertha, w^ho was still going strong, despite the fact 
that she was supposed to have been destroyed at 
least ten times. Paris was very merry and bright. 
The British had surprised the Boche in front of 
Amiens and had taken seventeen thousand prison- 
ers — and the Americans were trying hard to catch 
up with them— beyond F^re-en-Tardenois. We 
stayed three days in Paris. I w^ent out to the hos- 
pital at Neuilly and sang to the fellows who had 
made history for America at Chateau-Thierry. I 
never saw so many fellows with so many grouches, 
and all for one reason, because they were out of 
what they termed " a regular scrap." Their stories 
were wonderful— and it seemed almost impossible 
that the Germans could be really so demoralized. 
One boy said, " Hell, we don't need fighters now— 



182 THE BIG SHOW 

we need ' sprinters.' " I gave three shows during 
the three days — one at the Soldiers' and Sailors' 
Hut — one at the British-leave Club — and one at the 
Y.W.C.A. It was the first time I had ever enter- 
tained the feminine Young Christians, and a finer 
lot of girls I never want to see. Chateau-Thierry 
was back on the Allied route, so we got our passes 
and started on the trail of the hurrying Huns. 

We went first to La Fert^, where my old friends 
of the — th Division were resting, after doing won- 
ders. We were put up at Headquarters, a lovely 
chateau. I gave a show in the afternoon and the 
boys had just as much " pep " as if they had not 
been fighting hard for three weeks. I was broken- 
hearted to see many replacements and find some of 
the brave men that I had known and liked two 
months before — gone out of the cast of the Big 
Show — their roles being played by others undoubt- 
edly just as fine and brave, but I am very faithful to 
my friends and I must admit that after the show 
I went to mv room and had one of the best tear 
feasts I ever had — then by way of contrast I came 
down to witness a show that the boys gave for me, 
and had some of the best laughs I ever had. It 
Avas a splendid show — some of the jokes were very 
much for " stents onlv '' and it was funnv to hear 
the dear boys trying to change them to suit the 
feminine point of view. That night the Boche 
came snooping around — but in the air only — the 



FOLLOWING THE HURRYING HUNS 183 

ones who had feet were showing speed that would 
have made a Packard twin-six look like a snail. 

The next day we left, after lunch, for the Front, 
which was moving so fast that it was hard to catch. 
We passed through the world-famous town of 
Chateau-Thierry — and no matter what the Ger- 
mans did to the town in order to get in, the Yanks 
did twice as much in order to get them out. We 
saw one bridge or rather the place where one bridge 
had been before the Yanks saw it, and one of the 
boys told us that when the Americans got ready to 
stop the traffic over same, a French officer, almost 
in tears, said, " It took us eleven years to build it.'' 
A Yankee gunner said, " Well, it will take us eleven 
seconds to ruin it," and proceeded to do it — with 
one healthy boom! 

We went on up, passing camion after camion 
filled with our men, going into the show. They 
were absolutely white with dust, bumping along 
the shell-shot roads — chins well out — and singing 
" Hail, hail, the gang's all here, so what the h— , 
etc." 

We went through one tiny village that changed 
hands seven times in one day— it looked it, and I 
couldn't help wondering why anyone wanted it. 
We arrived at two up back of the forest of Fere- 
en-Tardenois, where I gave my show for one of the 
finest divisions that ever faced the Germans. I 
have made it a rule not to mention the names or 



184 THE BIG SHOW 

numbers of divisions, so I won't make an exception, 
but I may say that the name of the particular gang 
of heroes suggested a lot of colors. No ! you could 
never guess. 

The show was in the center of a battlefield where 
they had fought — I gave it on a German lorry that 
they had captured, and the ground was still strewn 
with helmets, rifles, hand grenades, and other things 
belonging to Huns that they had killed. They had 
very thoughtfully taken the Germans or what was 
left of them away. 

The German lorry moaned and squeaked under 
me as if its morale was like everything else Ger- 
man — and I trembled for fear it might also start 
running 7iach Deutschland! 

I never saw so many shells and aerial torpedoes. 
It looked as if the Boche must have left more of 
them behind than all the Allies ever had, but know- 
ing the Hun and his diabolical ways, no one was 
for taking an aerial torpedo as a souvenir for 
fear it might turn out to be a headstone in dis- 
guise. 

I gave an hour's show and afterwards the boys 
gave me everything from a rifle to a copy of 
Nietzsche which some Boche had left behind. I 
suppose he decided it was a bit late to read 
philosophy. 

We could hear the guns only occasionally, and 
when I remarked about it one of the men said, " If 



FOLLOWING THE HURKYING HUNS 185 

the wind was only from the east you could hear a 
concerted chorus of ' Kamerad M '^ 

We came back to La Fert^ by another route, 
passing through Vaux — which had not one house 
standing and no walls over three or four feet high. 
The next morning at eight o'clock we left La Fert^, 
stopped at St. Dizier for lunch, went on riding 
through the battlefield of the Marne, where hun- 
dreds of little white crosses nestle among the sway- 
ing wheat and have done so for four years — brave 
Frenchmen who have become an unforgettable back- 
ground to the world's greatest drama. 

We arrived at our old homestead, the Hotel de la 
Com(^die at Toul, at five. W^ent to our same rooms 
on the top floor three flights up, changed to my 
working clothes and went out to Francheville, gave 
one show there outdoors, and it being Sunday all 
the villagers turned out and almost shoved the 
Yanks off the road trying to see the actress; from 
there we went on over to Headquarters of — st 
Division at Griscourt, dined with General B. and 
staff — this general is " some guy " — he has the 
French Legion of Honor and the Croix de Guerre — 
is famous for having led his men over the top at 
Cantigny. This division has been very busy and 
has had terrific losses, but the light in their eyes 
is still one hundred candle-power. 

I gave the show on a couple of tables in front 
of Headquarters, which I must not neglect to re- 



186 THE BIG SHOW 

mark was not a chateau. Fine bunch I and just as 
good singers as they are scrappers. 

Home and to bed. 

Next day after lunch we went to Nancy — who is 
looking more shot to pieces than before, but who is 
flourishing from a monetary point of view. The 
Yanks have come ! 

Went through Nancy up towards the front to 
Headquarters of — d Division. One show at five — 
the morale of these men is perfectly splendid. They 
have lost and lost and have hundreds of replace- 
ments and still they are " rearin' to go." 

I never heard fellows sing better — I asked what 
they wanted to sing, and they yelled " The Pay 
Roll," which, for the benefit of those who don't 
know that refined ditty, is a strong favorite in the 
A.E.P. and is sung with feeling to the tune of 
" Glory, glory, hallelujah ! ", as follows : 

All we do is sign the pay roll, 
All we do is sign the pay roll. 
All we do is sign the pay roll, 
And we never get a G d cent ! 

They started to sing it, and when they came to 
the finish they suddenly realized that there were 
ladies present and it died away in a sort of moan. 
So I said, " What's the big idea? I know that song 
and if you can sing it to yourselves you can sing it 
to me, I'm in the A.E.F." And so I started them 



FOLLOWING THE HURRYING HUNS 187 

again and they sang it — an unexpurgated render- 
ing that was thrilling! I don't approve of the ex- 
pression as a password, but I approve of anything 
that our fellows want to say or do — and you will 
never know the splendor of the American Na- 
tional sicear until vou hear two thousand huskies 
who have faced hell and are looking for more sing 
in unison 



u 



And we never get a G d cent ! " 



I'm sure it would never be counted as a regular 
" swear " by the great Judge of all transgressors. 

From there we went to dinner with General L. 
I'm beginning to think we ought to win the War 
on General principles — they are all such regular he 
men. After dinner w^e went to Marbach, where the 
Marines had built a splendid big platform deco- 
rated with flags and even a couple of plaster of 
Paris busts of French heroes. It v/as getting dark, 
so they turned a couple of motor searchlights on 
me — and when those lights hit me, side view, I think 
the Marines saw more of me than any other soldiers 
ever saw — but all in a good cause, said I ! 

They had a band that was beyond description, 
saxophones and everything — and when they played 
" Madelon," the great French marching song, I'm 
sure I saw the plaster of Paris French heroes sway- 
ing in time to the music. 



188 THE BIG SHOW 

We came back through Nancy just as the Huns 
started their nightly bombing fest — and, believe me, 
the Cadillac broke all records from Nancy to 
Toul. 

We got home safely, climbed wearily upstairs, 
and I was sitting thanking St. Somebody who pro- 
tects us from bombs for seeing us through when 
all of a sudden the lights went out and the sirene 
started to moan. 

Did I ever say I had been in air raids in Paris? 
Well, I take it back. No one has ever been in a 
real raid until they have been in one in a little 
French town that is so old that it's ready to fall 
from sheer fatigue. We lit candles and waited, but 
not long. A church bell began to toll drearily, 
which meant that the Germans were over the town. 
I figured it out that the church bell tolled to prove 
that one man in town was brave enough to stay 
aboveground because the rush for the caves by the 
French was something that mus4: be seen to be 
believed. I learned later that the man who tolled 
the bell was also underground. Some rope! 

Of course it is the law, and anv one of the vil- 
lagers found out collecting bombs after the church 
bell rings gets fined if he lives. 

Mother was all for seeing the show, so we put out 
the candles and stepped out onto the balcony, and 
there they were flying low enough to place a bomb 
on your eyebrow with ease. 



FOLLOWING THE HURRYING HUNS 189 

The defenses of Toul are nil — because some 
" boob " started the story that there was a friendly 
arrangement by which Toul would not be bombed. 
Twenty-six bombs was the German idea of friendli- 
ness — and every one that fell made Toul sit up and 
" shake the shimmy." I let Mother see the air- 
planes, but when I saw that the Toul defenses con- 
sisted of a couple of machine guns on the roofs of 
two trembling houses I led her gently but firmly 
indoors and downstairs into a pitch-dark hall — 
where the only drunken Yank I ever met in France 
was making more noise than all the bombs. 

So up we went again. 

Suddenly silence — sighs of relief — exit church 
bell — enter lights. All clear ! Sighs of relief from 
mother and child — back to the dressing-table, hair 
brush in one hand, kid curlers clasped between 
rather shaky thumb and forefinger — dash, dot, dash, 
dot — lights out — sirene — church bell — They're in 
again — that they should raid was natural, but that 
they should play a return date was rude. The two 
raids lasted an hour and ten minutes by the clock 
and two years and a half in my mind. They did 
quite a lot of material damage, but killed no one — 
which was extraordinary and proves the French 
theory that a bird in the cave is worth two in the 
street. 

We woke the next morning feeling not a day 
more than a hundred and eight apiece, and left 



190 THE BIG SHOW 

Toiil to bask in all the German friendship she 
wanted. 

At noon we arrived at Sommeilles, and after see- 
ing the place I was quite convinced that there is 
something in the superstition about thirteen, be- 
cause the men that were there and had been there 
for months were the Thirteenth Engineers. They 
had written me asking me to come, and they cer- 
tainly were the most grateful bunch I ever played 
for. We lunched with them and then gave the 
show. Only half of them had the misfortune to be 
sunk there, so after lunch we went on over to the 
other half at a place called Fleury, which despite 
its pretty name only strengthened my opinion 
about thirteen. Fleury was right back of Verdun, 
and as our show was scheduled for after dinner we 
had an hour or so. And we did the only bit of 
sightseeing that we did while in France — we got 
passes and went up to see Verdun. I onl}^ hope 
that after the war the French will keep that glori- 
ous monument intact for the benefit of touring 
Americans, because Verdun is really a picturesque 
ruin — with its charming old walls and its buildings 
not entirely demolished, but not one as far as we 
could see had been missed. The town was abso- 
lutely deserted except for a few fat poiliis who 
were swimming and paddling about in the little 
river which was flowing peacefully along at the 
foot of the grand citadel. I should not have known 




00 






FOLLOWING THE HURRYING HUNS 191 

that they were fat but for the fact that just as we 
drove up to the citadel we heard Boche 'planes 
overhead, and we all rushed to see what was doing! 
Two lovely silver 'planes apparently en route for 
heaven got well up above an observation balloon 
and dove on it simultaneously. The observer 
dropped gracefully out in a parachute — the anti- 
aircraft guns barked madly — the Boches ran home 
— but the balloon remained silhouetted against the 
summer sky. Evidently the Germans flew better 
than they shot. The observer came slowly down 
and landed on the top of a tree — the poihiSy who had 
all emerged from the river to see the show (that's 
how I knew they were fat), all went back to their 
swimming, and Verdun slept again — I asked one 
fat poilu, the only one who was wearing anything 
but the river, if the Boche came over often. He 
said No ! that it was a great treat for them, as noth- 
ing exciting ever happened in Verdun now! Poor 
long-suffering town ! It has certainly earned a bit 
of peace. 

We came back to Fleury — dined and gave the 
show. For the first time, I co-starred, as there was 
a splendid quartette of Young Christians who 
helped me out a lot. We left right after my part of 
the entertainment and started for Paris. Every- 
one said we would never make it that night — but 
they did not know the Cadillac. We arrived in 
Paris at one in the morning, having traveled along 



192 THE BIG SHOW 

without any lights at all — over the most terrible 
roads and with a terrible battle going on. The 
sky was ablaze with Very lights, star-shells, etc. 
As we drew nearer to Paris it all faded awa}^ like 
a dream, and I suddenly realized with a heavy 
heart that I had perhaps seen my last show for 
some time — as we were to leave France almost im- 
mediately. 

The next day the news about the Yanks was so 
splendid that I sent a telegram to the " Boss Gen- 
eral " saying " Congratulations on your great show 
— sorry I am not in the cast — hope to join the com- 
pany in Berlin." And I really meant it. 

My idea was to go to England for three or four 
months, grab as much money as the income tax 
collectors would allow and go back to the Big 
Show! 



CHAPTER XI 
The A.E.F. in England 

SOMEONE said once that my heart was like an 
artichoke, a leaf for everyone. Well, if that 
is true, said artichoke was certainly left in 
France for our boys to do with as they liked, even 
to playing " She loves me— She loves me not '' with 
the leaves. When we got back to England and I 
knew that I had to start playing for money instead 
of love I had no interest in life, but after two 
weeks there I realized that it was to be a happy 
combination of love and money, because there were 
hundreds of Yanks in England and thousands pass- 
ing through every day en route to France, so I be- 
gan to cheer up. The show was called "Hullo, 
America ! '' and I filled it full of American songs, 
and myself personally blew off a lot of mv war 
steam in a song which I wrote and sang called 
" When I Take My Jazz Band to the Fatherland." 
This is the chorus: 

Oh, say can you see 

What's going to happen in the streets of Berlin, 
Over there, Over there, Over there? 

193 



194 THE BIG SHOW 

We're going to jazz 'em, jazz 'em up for fair; 

Instead of sitting drinking Bock, 

They're going to learn to eagle rock, 

Every Fritz and Herman 

Will have to jazz in German. 

Take it from me, 

We're going to say, 

" Now, here's your chance, dance — 

'Wav down South in the Land of Cotton ! " 

Wacht am Rhein 

Will be forgotten 

When I take my jazz band to the Fatherland. 

That song became the talk of London, and the word 
"jazz," w^hich was new to the British, became a 
household necessity. Papers wrote editorials about 
it, duchesses discussed it, bus girls buzzed about 
it, and dancing teachers reaped the harvest by in- 
sisting that " jazz " was a dance, then proceeded to 
teach the innocent but inquiring English the " jazz 
roll," something we never saw or tried to do, an 
acrobatic atrocity ; then preachers started to preach 
about the immorality of this dance, and of course 
America had to take the blame. I spent most of 
my time explaining that jazz was a form of music 
and not a dance ; but what chance had I with about 
a hundred dancing teachers, raking in the first 
money they had raked since 1914, saying I was mis- 
taken? It ended by several English managers 
bringing over several real jazz bands, and the Brit- 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 195 

ish are still gasping. They say the ear specialists 
of London are going to present me with a medal 
for introducing jazz to London. 

" Hullo, America ! " was about the biggest suc- 
cess I've ever had, and I was of course delighted, 
but my real joy was that on Sunday I gave regular 
shows for regular roughneck Yanks, and on the 
days when we had no matinees I went to the hos- 
pitals, where I found my own boys, who when I 
appeared in the wards would yell " Hello ! Elsie, 
remember Houdezeele? ", or " I saw you up in Bel- 
gium." That sent me into the theater at night 
with speed enough to stagger Ralph de Palma. On 
Sundays Sir Alfred Butt and the committee who 
helped amuse our boys in London were still giving 
wonderful shows at the Palace. One Sunday night 
General B., who was the big boss of the A.E.F. in 
England and who made anything I wanted to do 
for the boys possible, had a real jazz band of choco- 
late hue brought up to London, and I sang my song 
about taking my jazz band to the Fatherland, and 
then led them out. Oh ! boy, what a night ! I went 
wild leading them. It was the first band I had led 
since leaving France, and in my mind I was back 
plodding along a dusty French road. We certainly 
jarred the roof of the Palace even if we couldn't 
blow it off. After the show they marched down the 
streets playing " Over There " as if they were walk- 
ing down tVie Unter den Linden. If you have never 



196 THE BIG SHOW 

been in London on Sunday ; if ^^ou don't know that 
Philadelphia on Sunday is a wide-open mining- 
town compared to London on that same day, then 
you will never understand the super- joy of seeing 
and hearing fifty black-faced, white-hearted sons 
of Southern salubrity hoofing it down Shaftesbury 
Avenue, London, England, Sunday night and get- 
ting away with it; but then between the Colonial 
troops and the Yanks who were blowing in and out 
of poor old London on leave, that dignified and 
lovely city was rather like Carrie Nation might 
have been in the act of mixing a Clover Club cock- 
tail — baffled. 

On leaving France I had written a letter to the 
A.E.F. in France which was published in that 
wonderful paper the " Stars and Stripes," and I 
told the fellows to keep up the good work while I 
went to get some money in England and that we 
would be back in the spring; that if they wanted 
anything that I could get for them, to write to me, 
so that all the time I was in England I ran opposi- 
tion to the Quartermaster Corps. They wrote to 
me for everything from dice to evening gowns, and 
they got them. The evening gowns were for the 
" leading ladies " in their shows. I sent out nine 
altogether, and finally one night when I wanted to 
^^ step out " to a party I had to borrow one of my 
theater gowns, but all in a good cause. The " lead- 
ing ladies " must be clothed at the Front, even 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 197 

though the ones at home are not clothed at the 
front or the back. 

If it had not been for the A.E.F. in England^ 
we would surely have lost what little flesh still 
remained on our somewhat weary bones. As it 
was, we got quite a lot of forbidden fruit, such as 
sugar, jam, Uneeda biscuits, etc. One friend of 
ours. Captain S., used to arrive about once a week 
looking like Santa Claus laden with goodies which 
our boys in the camps where I was working would 
send to us. They took turns going without sugar 
for a day, in order to collect enough to send up to 
Elsie and Mother. Anything I may have done for 
them was certainly more than repaid by that little 
thought alone. 

In one part of " Hullo, America ! " I did a spe- 
cialty in which I told some of my war stories and 
sang " Give me the moonlight, give me the boy, and 
leave the rest to me " ; then sang it as the different 
soldiers would sing it. I am going to quote three 
of them, as I've so many requests from the boys for 
the words. The original song was like this : 

Give me the moonlight, 
Give me the boy, 

And leav e the rest to me ; 
Give me a bench for two, 
Where we can bill and coo. 

And no one can see; 
Give me a shady nook. 



198 THE BIG SHOW 

Give me a babbling brook 

In close proximity; 
It's a very ancient game. 
But it always works the same. 

« 

Give me the moonlight, 
Give me the bov, 

And leave the rest to me. 

Then followed the way the German aviators would 
sing it: 

Give me the moonlight, 
Give me some bombs. 

And leave the rest to me; 
Give me a church or two, 
A hospital will do, 

Oder vicUcicht a nursery; 
Give me a mother there. 
Hearing her baby's prayer, 

Und I will laugh with glee; 
There's no military loss. 
But I get the iron cross. 
So give me the moonlight, 
Give me some bombs, 

Und leave the rest to me. 

Boom ! Boom I 

The way the colored soldier would sing it: 

Gib me de moonlight, 
Show me de hen. 

And leave de rest to me; 
Gib me a coop or two. 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 199 

Wliere little chickens bill and coo, 

And nobody can see; 
Gib me a frying pan, 
I fry like no man can, 

O Lordy I for one fricassee. 
It's a very easy game, 
'Cause dese French chickens is tame. 
Gib me de moonlight, 
Show me de hen. 

And leave de rest to me. 

Unless you have seen the Yanks in France and have 
witnessed the triumph of " American Arms " you 
can't imagine how tame those French " chickens " 
were. As our boys used to say — Ah^ oiii:!! 

After about two months in London I was getting 
quite contented. I met the boys sometimes down 
at different camps, just when they had arrived from 
home and were on their way to the Big Show. 
I gave them the same sort of shows that I gave 
in France and always ended up by telling them 
that I would see them " over there • ' in the early 
spring, and I meant it, because when we left France 
the most optimistic of optimists said the War would, 
not end before spring, and I was living or rather 
existing with the idea of getting back to my gang 
and to see the finish. Then all of a sudden things 
began to happen in France; word came that the 
Germans were "^^ kaput J^ We had heard that before, 
and all England was incredulous. A few days later 
— " The Germans Ask for Armistice ! '' " Don't kid 



200 THE BIG SHOW 

us/' we said in England ; " there is a catch in it " — 
but we were wrong. On Saturday, November 9th, 
the world knew that armistice w^ould be signed. On 
Monday, and on Sunday, November 10th, I made 
my usual trip to a camp ; this time to Winchester, 
where I sang for three thousand Yanks who had 
just arrived from home on an influenza-laden ship. 
Some of the poor boys never even reached South- 
ampton. They had all the work and struggles of 
rehearsing for the Big Show and never got to 
play their parts. That to me was the saddest thing 
in the whole War. Those boys at Winchester on 
Armistice Sunday never saw^ France, and of all the 
shows I ever gave, that one was the most difficult. 
I'll take shell-fire, bombs or even gas rather than 
face a battery of disappointed young faces. I knew 
that if I talked about my experiences in France 
they would feel it, and I could not say " when you 
get over there," because in my heart I knew they 
would never know the joys of sleeping in billets 
where chickens, pigs and goats tell you to " move 
over " ; of having six or seven tiny French kids 
hanging on their necks, legs and arms, all crying 
^^ Yivent Ics Americains! ''; to drink a glass of de- 
licious ink known as Vin Rouge , and served by a 
brigrht-eved, black-haired Madelon who still blushes 
when he " chucks " her under her pretty chin, 
despite the fact that at least four hundred thou- 
sand eight hundred and forty-two soldiers have 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 201 

given her the same sort of " chuck " under that 
same pretty chin. Oh I I did feel sorry for those 
boys, but we got along somehow, and they had a 
good band which played just as if it was leading 
them into battle, but I went back to London thor- 
oughly depressed. 

All the time we had been in London I had been 
longing for an air raid; that sounds like bravado 
in its most advanced stage, but I really longed to 
see the British public in a raid. I had heard how 
they never moved in the theater, how the play went 
on even though the dialogue was punctuated by 
bombs, and I wanted a chance to show them that 
I " belonged," as it were. So as the fall moon grew 
to look like a snow-covered pumpkin I waited and 
hoped, but all in vain. On the morning of the 11th 
of November I was dreaming that I was standing 
on the Palace stage singing " Give me the moon- 
light, give me the boy, etc."; bombs were falling 
on all sides and the audience was so still it seemed 
to be asleep. I was making heroic efforts to appear 
calm, while inside of me my " tummy " was making 
vain attempts to come up for air. Boom! went a 
bomb rather faintly, and I opened one eye ; Boom ! 
again, stronger this time — I opened the other eye. 
BOOM! once more, and then I realized that those 
booms meant the end of all air raids, they were 
the signal to tell London that the Armistice was 
signed. At that moment London went mad. Every- 



202 THE BIG SHOW 

one who reads • this was naturally somewhere at 
that time, and of course people went mad wherever 
that somewhere happened to be, but there is some- 
thing extraordinary about English people going 
mad. We Americans or the Latins have not so 
far to go, but for the British it is some trip, and 
they made it. The earth suddenly opened and mil- 
lions of human ants swarmed the streets, buildings, 
trams, and even flagpoles. From the fourth floor 
of the Carlton where we lived we hung out of the 
windows dazed. I could not yell, I was numb. 
Those ants had horns, whistles, flags, balloons. I 
counted fifteen people clinging to one taxi. Air- 
planes appeared from nowhere, and all but came 
down to pick up passengers. I closed the window 
and tried to shut it all out. It seemed so unbeliev- 
able! Millions of people praying for one thing for 
^ye endless years, — suddenly that prayer is an- 
swered, and they show their gratitude by blowing 
tin horns and breaking their fellow creatures' arms 
and legs. Why when those booms boomed did we 
not all fall on our knees in awe and unspeakable 
gratitude, as the heathens used to do when miracles 
were performed? Ah I but we are not heathens, we 
are civilized and civilization knows how to ask but 
not how to receive. Eeally, Miss Janis, you had 
better throw your beard over your shoulders before 
it trips you, besides perhaps one can say a little 
prayer and blow a horn at the same time — who 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 203 

knows? Anjwa}', I found Mother in her room weep- 
ing gratefully and silently. I went into mine and 
wept gratefully, but not silently; the only thing I 
can do silently is sleep. Up to time of going to 
press there is no one w^ho can deny that somewhat 
boastful assertion. After we both wept our weeps, 
I went to the piano and we both sang a little hymn 
which I learned as a kiddie when Mother taught 
Sunday school, long before I went w^rong, for be it 
understood in those days anyone who went on the 
stage went wrong — at least until they wxre a suc- 
cess. Someone said, " Two wrongs don't make a 
right, but two successes will go a long way towards 
righting a wrong." The hymn of my childhood 
was evidently w^ritten with forethought, as it 
seemed to fit the situation: 

Peace, Peace, Sweet Peace, 
Wonderful gift from above. 
Wonderful, wonderful Peace, 
Sweet Peace, the gift of God's love. 

That night at the theater the audience was 
strangely well-behaved. I heard great tales of 
rough-housing in other theaters, but the Palace 
audience is traditionally comme il faut, which only 
makes my success there even more surprising. 
After the theater that night we w^ere invited to at 
least six joy parties. W^e looked in at the Ritz, 



204 THE BIG SHOW 

where people were yelling, lights were full up, and 
supper and liquids were in evidence for the first 
time in four years. We wanted to be gay, but we 
could not make the grade, so we sneaked out a back 
door through a plethora of drunken waiters and 
went home. As we sat there alone, listening to the 
din and roar of peace, which sounded much more 
like war than war itself. Mother looked at me, and 
I looked at Mother; then, as is our custom, we 
" split '' a little thought between us, and we drank 
a silent toast to the dear men who had gone, but 
not in vain. 

From that time on, things were not quite the 
same to me; something seemed to have snapped 
somewhere in the region of where my heart would 
have been if I had not left it in France. I still 
went to hospitals and camps, still sang of taking 
my jazz band to the Fatherland, but not with the 
same vim, because I knew that the biggest thing in 
my life had gone out of it, never again would I 
sing to and cheer two or three thousand of our 
wonderful boys, and send them from me singing 
into the unknown. I was glad that their battles 
were over, but I was selfish enough to be sorry that 
my work which gave me such indescribable and 
infinite joy was ended. 

London was herself again, food was still scarce, 
but people smiled and looked with joy ahead a few 
months to the time when, after the shadow of war 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 205 

had lifted, they would go forth hands outstretched 
into the light and grasp a pound of butter. 

Great things happened, some of the stars of the 
Big War honored us. The glorious old man of 
France, Clemenceau, came, and London went mad ; 
President Wilson came, and London was still mad 
— not at the President. Haig came ; Pershing was 
billed, but canceled his appearance because the Ger- 
mans were slow about signing their peace contracts. 
Hundreds and thousands began to get London 
leave; Yanks could be seen standing in front of 
Westminster Abbey with that "you ought to see 
the Woolworth Building expression.-' The Palace, 
if I may say so without bragging, was the first place 
most of our boys went; in fact, one of my friends 
told me that he got about ten telegrams a day from 
fellows in France and Germany saying " Coming 
on leave; get me seats to see Elsie Janis, and a 
place to sleep." Maybe I was not all " stuck up." 
I left word at the stage door that any man in U. S. 
uniform was to come right up and no questions 
asked. And they came laden with souvenirs ; they 
brought everything from Germany but the Rhine. 
General O. came, and I took him out to the big 
hospital where about four hundred of his own men 
were still regretting the fact that they would not 
be able to get even. He co-starred with me, as he 
was some yarn spinner; the men were crazy about 
him. In the field a General is a General, but in a 



206 THE BIG SHOW 

hospital he is only a human being, and this one 
was all that, with emphasis on the human. Speak- 
ing of humans and he men, I can't resist being per- 
sonal just for a minute and saying that we Ameri- 
cans had two of the finest examples of both repre- 
senting us in London that were ever known, Ad- 
miral S. and General B. Both did more to cement 
the friendship of England and America than will 
ever be known. They were not the bragging, 
America-won-the-war kind; they gave credit and 
took it, and made friends right and left and 
straight ahead. I don't say this because they were 
both nice to us, and wrote me charming letters 
thanking me for my work, but because I snooped 
about and heard what people thought of them — a 
couple of live wires without any short circuits. 

In my life I've met quite a lot of important per- 
sonages, so I don't feel inclined to brag, but I 
must say that during our stay in England this time 
we were sort of thick with Royalty; our maid, 
Nancy, had an aunt who had a husband who was 
second coachman to the King, and maybe you think 
we were not an courant with Court circles, but you 
are wrong ; we even knew that Mrs. Wilson's apart- 
ment in the Buckingham Palace was redecorated 
for her, in mauve, before she herself knew it. Then 
I had a chance to find out a little bit about Queens 
on my own — principally that they are just regular 
women, and don't wear their crowns under those 




a 



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o 

o 
o 



o 

Q 

ca 

N 
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10 
c: 



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THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 207 

hats that look as if there was something under them 
beside ideas. One day I strolled into the matinee 
a bit later than usual, and was told by a panting 
page boy that " Royalty had come," and so they 
had — Queen Mary, Queen Alexandra, her sister, 
Queen of Norway, the Princess Royal, Princess 
Victoria, Princess Maud, and little Prince Olaf. 
Between the acts the manager came and said 
that they w^anted to see me in the Royal box. 
I said that I could not go because I had a 
quick change; he said, " But you must go, we will 
hold the curtain " ; and so with nothing on but a 
lavender kimono, and very little of that, and with 
my Mary Pickfords flying all over the place, I 
breezed up to that box of Queens. I had heard 
something about people having to bow before them, 
but I had decided to pretend I did not know it, 
because if I had ever taken a bow in that kimono, 
Prince Olaf would have been embarrassed, so I 
went into the little room at the back of the box, 
holding the kimono with one hand and the curls 
with the other, and there they stood, all lined up 
with hands outstretched. Royalties have evidently 
learned from American Missions they have met that 
to visiting Congressmen and other important visi- 
tors the hand-shake is a sign of friends^hip, so I 
did not want them to think I w^as not as important 
as a Congressman, and I went along that line of 
Queens shaking hands and asking them how they 



208 THE BIG SHOW 

were? Silly when I knew they were royal, and in 
books royal folks are never healthy. As I came 
back to Queen Alexandra, who is perfectly ador- 
able, and despite the fact that people say she has 
her face enameled has the most gorgeous honest-to- 
God smile that ever put anyone at ease, pulled one 
of my curls, and said : " Why, they don't come off, 
do they? " I murmured something to the effect 
that if they would come off for anyone they would 
for her, and edged nearer the door. " I must get 
ready for the next act," I said, looking at them all. 
They said, of course they understood, and so I went 
over and shook hands again with Queen Alexandra 
just because I liked her, and with a " thanks, your 
Majesty " I did a Charlie Chaplin out of the door. 
Someone told me afterwards I should not have 
said " your Majesty," but should have said " M'am." 
How should I know? — I don't claim to be Palace- 
broken, and anyway the logical abbreviation for 
Majesty should be Mag. 

The time was drawing near for us to go home 
now, and I began to pant at the prospect. " Hullo, 
America!" had never had an empty seat, and of 
course everyone said I was crazy to leave, but we 
had been away a year and five months, and that's 
entirely too long to stay away from home, unless 
you are fighting to protect that same home, so we 
began to prepare. I had letters asking me to come 
up to the boys in Germany, but my life in France 



THE A.E.F. IN ENGLAND 209 

had been so wonderful that I could not bear the 
thought of just going around and comfortably giv- 
ing shows, and then anyway the boys who came on 
leave told me they had everything that they wanted 
that side of the Atlantic, so we got ready to sail, 
and had a splendid plan to sail from Brest, France, 
after a couple of days in Paris, where I would give 
two shows for the men on Paris leave. The Rot- 
terdam, which we were to sail on, was to go to 
Plymouth and then to Brest, so we rushed about, 
got in touch with Paris, arranged for two shows, 
and as many as I could give at Brest. I i)layed as 
long as I could at the Palace, closed on Wednesday, 
got ready to go to Paris on Saturday and sail 
from Brest the following Wednesday. On Satur- 
day at four (the train left at seven) U. S. Head- 
quarters called me up to say that they had just been 
notified that the Rotterdam had gone to Brest first 
and would come to Plymouth Tuesday ! ! There was 
nothing to do; I could not get over to Paris and 
back, and we could not get down to Brest in time. 
We were both too tired to swear, even if it w^as 
one of our indoor sports, so we just " sat and sat '' 
from Saturday until Wednesday, when we went to 
Plymouth. A very sad ending to a glorious ad- 
venture. I had so wanted to go back to France if 
only for three days, but we were going home, which 
is one of the hardest things to accomplish in these 
days, for even if the steamship companies will allow 



210 THE BIG SHOW 

vou to sail, tlie Aiucrioau passport buvoau have a 
right to reseut your coming home aud leaving them 
to ask (piestions. They were wonderful to us and 
they did not oven question why we were coming 
home. So this takes us to Plymouth, where we go 
out in a tender to the Rotterdam, and as we ap- 
proach the enormous neutral sea palace what do 
we see — hanging over the rails — Yanks I Oh! joy I 
Oh rapture! not one or two, but hundreds of them, 
and what are they yelling — '* Hello, Elsie! ITow's 
dear old London? " Fini la <)iicrrc! Yes, /(/ guerre 
est fiui, but the spirit that helped to finish it was 
hanging over the rails of the ship, and T was happy. 
After all, I was to iinish as I began, witli the A.E.F., 
three Generals, three hundred officers and twenty- 
two hundred troops on board. 

Hip ! hip ! hooray ! we Avere back in the Big Show 
after all and homeward bound. 



CHAPTER XII 

Home Again! 

WHEN we sailed from Plymouth on the good 
ship Rotterdam homeward bound, my 
emotions were of the rainbow variety. I 
had left probably the biggest success of my life 
when I left the Palace Theater, London — ^left it 
flat, in the height of its existence. I can't say that 
I was broken-hearted over that, because I have al- 
ways been an apostle of George M. Cohan's in his 
theory of going while the going's good, and even if 
I had been nothing in Europe, not even the Army of 
Occupation could have held us there, because we 
had that commonplace disease which claimed more 
victims in France than the war and influenza com- 
bined, homesickness. We were the exact antithesis 
of the colored soldier who was one of a crowd of 
his fellow-fighters when an Army chaplain, talking 
to them, said, " Now, just remember, boys, no mat- 
ter what happens, you are all right, and Heaven 
is your home." 

Just then a shell knocked part of the roof off. 
Our colored friend started to run. 

211 



212 THE BIG SHOW 



^' What's the matter, Mose? " said the chaplain. 
" You are all right." 

Mose didn't stop, but he yelled over his shoulder : 
" D-d-dat's all right, Chaplain, I know Heaven is 
ma home, but I ain't homesick." 

He was not, but we were, and so when we boarded 
the Rotterdam it did not seem possible we could 
endure nine or ten days before we really got home. 
I was delighted to be with troops again, but I 
thought, one can't spend all day and all night with 
twenty two hundred Yanks, no matter how uncon- 
ventional they may hope they are. How could I 
drag through those days? 

Did I drag? No, I flew! About two hours off 
the coast of England I met a T.A.G. (terribly at- 
tractive General), the one who had shown the 
French what to do with railroads in France; the 
one who had won a lot of the battles of life before 
he went to France, and who put the final crown of 
laurels on his nice level head " over there," saying 
nothing of the Legion d'Honneur, English Order of 
the Bath, and the best decoration America could 
give him, on his chest. I could write an entire book 
about this big man and his big doings, but I have 
not been asked to write a book to be entitled " Gen- 
erals I Have Loved." However, if you met this man, 
you would wonder why they did not ask him to go 
to Russia, for if he did, inside of two weeks he 
would have all the Bolshevists working on the rail- 



HOME AGAIN! 213 

road for nothing, except perhaps for an occasional 
smile, the kind he has a copyright on. 

Twelve hours out I had met two more T. A.G.'s ; 
two days out I had met at least two hundred and 
eighty-nine of the three hundred officers on board. 
Three days out I had met the other eleven. Four 
days, and I gave a show for a thousand of the boys 
in second-class. Five days, and I gave another for 
the rest ; six, I gave a show for the T. A.G.'s, officers, 
and also-rans, and by the time we reached Sandy 
Hook I was trying to figure out how I could lure 
the Dutch captain of the Rotterdam into saying 
that he had left his anchor in Holland, or dropped 
his neutrality in the Channel, and must make the 
trip all over again. We really did have a most w^on- 
derful voyage. 

When I sang for the enlisted men, I sang them 
a little song that I had written called " We're Go- 
ing Home," which w^ent like this : 

We're going home. 

And what about this prohibition, 
WheQ we get back home? 
It's a shame — who's to blame? 

Where's the liberty? 
Where's the land that's free? 

While we went to can the Kaiser, 
They have taken away Budweiser; 

But we're going home, 
And ask them, " What's the big idea?" 

Oh! yes, we're going home, 



214 THE BIG SHOW 

It's the truth, solemn truth, 
We got the Germans' goat, 
And now we want to vote, 
Because we're going home. 

Reading this, one might think I was a champion 
long-distance drinker, but I'm not, really; only I 
have talked to so many of the boys on the subject, 
and knew that little song hit the nail on the head 
for them. I've been with them enough and have 
seen them do enough great things to think that they 
ought to have whatever they want, so I say if the 
boys say " Prohibition ! " let's have it, and smile. 
If the boys say " We want beer! " I say, let's have 
beer, even if I have to lead a nice little poison gas 
bomb into the Senate myself. 

We floated into Quarantine about six in the eve- 
ning, and then began the endless chain of arguments 
about just what were the bits of land we could see. 
I have crossed the ocean some twenty times, and I 
have never yet approached New York without some- 
one coming up and pointing out the points of inter- 
est on the welcoming shores. Personally, the only 
one I ever recognized is Coney Island, and this time 
I was all for jumping off and swimming ashore, and 
then I decided that after living through France and 
everything, drowning would be somewhat banal, 
and anyway the T.A.G. would not jump with me, 
so I went to dinner instead. 



HOME AGAIN! 215 

We had to remain on board that night. We 
could see New York, but New York could not see 
us, so we had a party, and I am surprised that New 
York did not at least hear us. In the morning at 
five-thirty, I who never wake up without a certain 
amount of gentle but firm persuasion bounded from 
the bunk to the port-hole in one leap. We were 
moving up that sacred river. Every time I sail 
away from America, I think that the next time I 
come home I won't look at the sky-line of New 
York, because I get so tired of being eternally 
astounded. Each time I think, Next time Miss Lib- 
erty will leave me cold. She is not particularly 
attractive. She's not in style; she doesn't even 
smile and say " Glad you're back," and yet the 
sight of her is the cue for a creeping barrage of 
tears from all regular Americans. 

We approached the dock. It had to be Hoboken, 
just to take a bit of the joy out of life. The Hol- 
land-American ships have to land at the former 
German docks. That's what they get for being 
neutral ; they have to land in Hoboken. I stood on 
deck, thinking how wonderful even that garden 
spot was looking, when all at once I heard a band 
playing " Ja Da " — that's a popular tune, not a col- 
lege yell — and I said to myself : 

" How wonderful that is for someone, having a 
band meet them at six-thirty. They (the band) 
must have slept with their instruments." 



216 THE BIG SHOW 

A soldier came running up and said, " Have you 
seen it? " Another said, " Do you hear it? That's 
for you." I thought, Poor dears I the sight of Ho- 
boken has turned their war-weary brains; I will 
humor them. So I ran with them to the other side 
of the ship, and there, big as life, was the father of 
all tugboats, with two bands, one fore and one aft, 
and big signs all over it, " Welcome — Elsie Janis ! " 
That was the first time I even dreamed that 
America was going to make a heroine of me. I was 
completely knocked out; that tug was a Jack 
Dempsey to me. Mother came up, and of course 
we cried. Our tears seem to have lost their route 
during the War, because when we are sad, we smile, 
and when we are happy, we cry; the tear ducks 
must have struck the wrong pond. 

That tug with " Welcome ! " on it was the be- 
ginning of one long series of pleasant surprises, 
for I am quite sincere when I say that when I was 
working — or, rather, playing for the boys " over 
there/' it never occurred to me that I was doing 
anything very splendid. It hasn't soaked through 
my rather hard but not enlarged head yet. If I 
were a doughboy, like thousands I've seen, who 
with his own hands, and sometimes with empty 
hands, had done in one, two, or more Germans, 
then I could expect a welcome, especially as the 
only reward lots of them got was their own pride, 
and that alone had to make up for the loss of eyes,, 



HOME AGAIN! 217 

or arms, or legs, but what I did seemed so per- 
fectly natural to me, and to Mother. Perhaps it 
was because we had had a taste of the joy of cheer- 
ing and being with British soldiers in nineteen- 
fourteen and fifteen that made it seem just what 
w^e had been longing for, only even more gratifying, 
because our boys were so far from home. How- 
ever, the fact remains that I have been and am 
still being treated like a heroine, and I surely do 
love it. 

The ship docked, and then started the big battle 
for landing permits. Mother and I stood there, 
wondering if we w^ould make Tarry tow^n by night. 
All three of the T.A.G.'s were sent for by Uncle 
Sam to be taken off extra special quick and avoid 
the mob. I was just beginning to think that the 
Army was much too full of class distinction, when 
an angelic young man in uniform with an official- 
looking band on his arm stepped up and said : 

" Miss Janis, if you and your mother will get 
all your things together, I wall take you ashore at 
once." 

Was I in the A.E.F.? Ill say so. We filed out, 
and the biggest joy of all was that we left the three 
T.A.G.'s still talking about landing " at once." We 
even went through the customs smiling though 
thoroughly examined. They asked me if I had 
anything to declare. I said: 

" Yes — my undying devotion to the A.E.F." 



218 THE BIG SHOW 

My dear friends met us; you may know they 
were dear if they were there. We docked at seven- 
thirty. Usually, when we land in America, the 
kindly newspaper men ask me my plans for the 
future — what play I am going to play and so on — 
but this time they seemed to know plays were not 
on my mind, and they all asked me about my 
splendid work in France. Even the newspapers 
believed I was a heroine. I was beginning to get 
weak in my convictions. Suppose I should be — 
how grand ! We went to the hotel where we always 
descend (as we say in France) when in the city. 
Everyone there welcomed us. Two or three of the 
waiters told me of how they had just missed me 
in France; I congratulated them. 

After lunch we started for Tarrytown in the car. 
Though all America is home, sweet home, Tarry- 
town-on-ye-Hudson is where we have put about all 
of our hard-earned dollars, in the Manor House, 
built in 1683, and looking its full age — at least its 
shape does. Our house being in upper New York, 
of course George Washington stayed there. I really 
think he must have been playing one-night stands 
from the number of places he stopped, but our house 
really was on his route. He fell in love with Mary 
Phillipse who lived there, and being young he got 
very rash and asked her to marry him. He was only 
a lieutenant, and she, being more rash, refused him, 
poor girl ! She could not tell from his love-making 



HOME AGAIN! 219 

that he was going to be President. Today the girls 
can tell from a handshake how much income tax a 
man pays. However, when G. W. became a T.A.G. 
he came back and dispossessed Mary and her family 
and had her husband put in the klink. They called 
it a dungeon in those days — " dungeon or klink, it's 
all the same think." Anyway, that's what G. W. 
did. There I go, writing another book. Stick to 
your own history. Miss Heroine. 

When we reached Ardsley, which is a little 
nearer to New York City than Tarrytown, we sud- 
denly heard a siren blow. For a moment I thought 
there must be an air raid, and then I saw them, all 
the boys from the Tarrytown Fire Brigade on their 
big hook and ladder, which goes so fast and thrills 
me 80 that I have often been tempted to start a 
fire at the Manor House just to see them arrive. 
Even w^hen I saw them, I was looking for the fire. 
They 'had come, not to put us out, but to escort us 
in. So away they went ahead of us, blowing, ring- 
ing, yelling, and our old Buick trailing along like 
a chaperon at the Yale Prom. As we rode down 
the river road, usually so stately and justly proud 
of the fact that really great men of history had 
strolled contentedly beneath its huge trees, I almost 
burst with pride. People rushed out and waved 
flags. I learned afterward that it had been ar- 
ranged beforehand that the siren was the signal 
of our arrival. 



220 THE BIG SHOW 

We drew up to the Manor House, and there we 
found about four hundred men, women and children 
with flags, flowers and even tears to welcome us. If 
I were capable of describing my feelings on paper, I 
should never have to act again; I could go in for 
high-class literature — but I can't. Mother and I 
simply wilted. Little children with sweet little 
faces washed to a shining point presented us with 
flowers. Mothers whose boys had seen me in 
France shook my hand. The siren gave an angry 
scream, just to remind us it was still on the 
job. 

I turned to the intrepid one who was running 
that monster and said, " That's some fine machine." 
He said, " Come for a ride." 

So I leaped over about a hundred kids on to the 
front seat, and away we went, all through the 
streets of sweet, peaceful old Tarrytown. Shades 
of Washington Irving and Ichabod Crane, but we 
did move! That was the first time I ever for a 
moment admitted that I have some heroic instincts. 
I've played under shell-fire; I've worn a gas mask 
and danced ; I've crossed the ocean seven times dur- 
ing the War ; I've faced regiments of " cooties " 
without a tremor; but to ride, standing bolt up- 
right, fifty miles an hour on a hook and ladder, 
around curves that were made for baby carriages, 
with nothing to hold on to but my reputation, w^as 
brave, and I admit it. I don't remember much 



HOME AGAIN! 221 

except that we did not hit anything for the simple 
reason that everything ran like mad. 

When we got back I thought my brain had 
given way under the exquisite speed, for there in 
my front yard I saw khaki, and lots of it. About 
fifty of our boys from a hospital nearby had come 
to say hello. They were boys I had known in 
France, and there was a first-class revival meeting 
held right on the lawn under the same trees where 
George Washington tried to make Mary Phillipse 
listen to reason. Finally I thanked them all, and 
they faded away like a dream. 

Will there ever be such times again, I wonder? 
A hundred years from now, what will be happening 
under those wonderful, wise old trees? Well, we 
can't go into that, and I, for one, don't want to. I 
would not have missed living in our days for a 
front-row seat in Heaven. 

Home again ! We were there. I pinched myself 
into the realization of that glorious fact, and then 
I sat down and thought. If home meant to me as 
much as it did, with lots of loving and charming 
friends in Europe, what must it mean to our boys ! 
— some with wives that they hardly knew, some 
with little babies that they had never seen, some 
with mothers that they had never dared hope to 
see again? I had no husband — and no new baby, 
naturally. The best we could do in the baby line 
was three terribly ugly and at the same time de- 






222 THE BIG SHOW 

licious baby canaries, and a half a dozen tiny yel- 
low ducks, whose mother is a hen, and who looks 
at them as if to say, " Where do they get those 
noses? Their father was so nice-looking." I had 
my dear mother with me every minute. In fact, we 
arranged not to be more than ten yards apart dur- 
ing the War, so that if a shell with one of our names 
on it came, we could make it read — " and family.'^ 
The Siamese Twins were estranged, compared to 
us. Yet I was so glad to be home that I put a 
record on the Victor, and despite the fact that it 
was so hot that the canaries were panting, I danced 
for twenty minutes just from sheer joy. 

I've been home just a week today, and so much 
has happened. I've been in town four times, and 
each time something wonderful has happened. I've 
been cheered in theaters, IVe been made the Com- 
manding Officer of the 94th Flying Squadron, the 
greatest bunch of flying heroes ever. I have been 
presented with a medal by General O'Kyan from 
the New York boys of the A.E.F. I've flooded the 
stage of the Globe Theater, where it was presented 
to me, with tears, not because I got a medal, but 
because engraved on it were the words " In loving 
and grateful appreciation." The loving is what 
got me. I don't want anyone to thank me, but I 
do hope they mean it when they say ^^ loving/^ All 
this has happened, and T am still baffled, as I said 
through my tears after the super T.A.G. pinned the 




ON SHIPBOARD 



HOME AGAIN! 223 

medal on me: " It's all bull! (more tears). Just 
why they should give me a medal for spending the 
happiest days of my life with a lot of regular guys, 
I don't see! " and I stumbled off, or swam off the 
stage, sobbing. 

Well, it's all over, our wonderful war, and I am 
wondering what the future holds for our wonderful 
warriors? I find New York very little blemished 
by the scourge of war, and certainly not chastened. 
Surely our returning boys whose mothers, wives 
and sweethearts dreaded the thought of their boys 
going to that wicked city, Paris, will all agree that 
Paris is a sweet girl graduate compared to New 
York, at least in the theaters and roof garden 
shows. Goodness knows, I am not narrow except 
around the hips. By the time I was sixteen I had 
been all over Paris. Mother had taken me for fear 
I would break my neck crawling out of some win- 
dow to go, if she refused, and since th.en we have 
been going some, all over the world. My ideas 
have always been so broad that most of my friends 
wear shock absorbers. This time New York has 
not surprised but numbed me. In Paris I've seen 
girls without a " shimmy," but I would rather see 
a French girl without one than see an American 
girl " shaking one." I suppose this will all blow 
over — not the " shimmy," but the craze, and I sin- 
cerely hope so, because one of the most wonderful 
things in the A.E.F. was the absolute ^nd undying 



224 THE BIG SHOW 

respect the American soldiers had for the Ameri- 
can girl. They put them on a pedestal that grew 
and grew with each succeeding day the boys spent 
in France. The more he saw of other women, the 
more he boosted the girl at home, until she was 
almost too high to be human. Well, I want her 
to be human, but I won't agree that you can " shake 
the shimmy " on a pedestal. I don't say all the nice 
girls are doing it, but they certainly are standing 
for its existence, for everywhere I go I see it. I 
hope it is only in New York, because nothing goes 
very far there, least of all the evening dresses. I 
never saw so many girls with so few clothes. It's 
a case of 

A little tulle, 

A yard of silk, 

A lot of skin as white as milk. 

Is it wished on? 

How dares she breathe? 

A little cough, 

Good-evening, Eve I 

To get back to what's going to happen to the 
boys — not that the above has anything to do with 
it. I don't see any of them about — I long for the 
sight of them. They must be somewhere, and if you 
have one in your home, please, oh please, don't stop 
making a hero of him just because he is not dressed 
for the part any more. Say the same little prayer 



HOME AGAIN! 225 

you said for him when he was " over there." I 
have just subscribed five hundred dollars a year to 
the Aero Club, a little bit toward keeping a place 
where our boys can meet and meet again. Long 
after the War is over and the world has forgotten 
that they were heroes they will be able to talk of 
the days when they were. 

I approve of the League of Nations. I think it's 
a great idea for the nations all to get together and 
produce the next war like one big syndicate. But if 
I may voice a poor, feeble little opinion, most of 
the men liked the War, and most men will always 
like war, and as long as there are w^omen to fight 
for, men will fight, so if they really want to do away 
with war they must exterminate women. We must 
not kill the spirit that won the War ; we must not 
forget that for every dear lad w^ho was lost at least 
ten were made into real men. I've seen them in 
training camps — little, weazened, stoop-shouldered 
boys out of some office, and IVe seen the same outfit 
two months later, with a light in their eyes and 
medals on their chests. I've seen a man in England 
who used to wear pale pink shirts, and smell so 
strong of Mary Garden perfume that I suspected 
him of having seen her in " Thais," go to war and 
come back with a Victoria Cross for rescuing seven 
wounded men under machine-gun fire. Oh, war had 
its good points! The slaughter was horrible — but 
after all, influenza killed six millions ! 



226 THE BIG SHOW 

That's that, and I resiUy ought to hire a hall or 
start another war, but before I do I just want to 
tell you about two big darkies who were talking, 
one day after the Armistice. One was wearing a 
Croix de Guerre. 

His friend said, " What's dat you-all got on you' 
chest? " 

"Why, dat's a cross de guerre." 

" How did you get it? " 

" Oh, I just went out and captured a machine- 
gun, and killed all the crew, and brought the gun 
back, and for that I got a cross de guerre." 

" Well," said his friend, " you go tell another one 
and get me a-cross de ocean." 

Now, I must call a halt. I love talking, and as I 
can't talk to everyone, I like writing. Just a few 
words in parting to the women : You have been 
wonderful — and while I love men, I also love the 
women that make the men the regular, honest-to- 
goodness, fine fellows they are. Will the ladies 
kindly take a bow, and let's agree, the War is dead. 
Long live the War — or at least the men who helped 
win it! 



IRISH PHILOSOPHY 

You may feel a lot of sadness 

Without really being sad, 
You may sense a touch of gladness 

Without really being glad; 
You may even feel some madness 

Without being truly mad, 
But if you feel a bit of badness — 

Then look out! 

For a little bit of sadness 

Will catch a fellow's eye, 
And a little bit of gladness 

Will send his spirits high; 
And with a little madness 

You might very well get by. 
But when it comes to badness — 

There's a doubt. 

For there's sadness that depresses, 
And there's madness that distresses, 
Also gladness that expresses 

What the joy of life's about. 
You can do without the gladness, 
Or the sadness, 
Or the madness. 
But that little bit of badness 
People cannot live without. 



227 



